Legend of Zelda: Found in the Silence, Lost on the Way
by bluelilywater
Summary: The Hero, though respected for his legend, is long forgotten and dismissed as just that– a legend. It's been decades since the People's War, the first recorded clash against darkness without the Legendary Hero. There are still those who are bitter, some who still hope and believe, and some who are still searching to end it all. Stinger just happens to be none of those.
1. A Brush Off the Shoulder

Chapter 1  
A Brush Off the Shoulder  
...

As we trudged up the mountain I tried not to think that my feet felt like they were bleeding, because I knew that they likely weren't, and instead focused on how summer had transformed the scene I'd see every few times a year. The grasses weren't shy and green like during spring or after a shower of rain, but rather were long and patchy in wherever they could grow. The trees cast the only shade the blazing sun allowed, and there weren't many flowers to be seen, but the beauty was wordless and bright if you took everything in.

"Kolon, your mutterings are entirely immature," father said sharply, as if he couldn't bear hearing the grumbles anymore. "If you insist on doing this much longer, I swear, I will send you out with your uncle every day at the crack of dawn so you can mumble your complaints to the cows! Your brother is bearing this well, and so will you," he said with finality.

Kolon, behind me, gave a violently indignant huff. I could hear a retort coming and I was already wincing. Instead, he shot me a caustic glare. The bitterness was palpable, and I wished I had something to say. Honestly, from experience, anything I could tell him would be left better unsaid. So rather than face the wrath of my younger brother, I gave him a hard, apologetic look, weary that my father had called me out on something Kolon had heard much too often. His face was far past the ability to show disappointment anymore. If I wanted to stand up for him somehow in any way, I would have a long time ago.

My father grunted and accepted his silence. I looked down, hefting my pack higher up my shoulders.

Walking to my Uncle and Aunt's house was a trip that took a day and half. My father said it was a good time to appreciate the world in the way the earth sees it. I could sometimes tell what he meant. Everything could be beautiful depending on the view, but I knew that Kolon couldn't see it. All he noticed was how burrs would stick to his clothing and the grasses were sharp and his feet would get stuck in animal burrows and the sun was merciless. I could see clearly what he meant by his mutterings on the bad trips, but then I could always look forward to seeing my cousins again.

They were quite the individuals, my cousins. There were only two of them, but even so, I had never met anyone of quite their brand before. Horseshoe was often very serious and largely intimidating, but at the same time, he felt honor-bound for no reason at all to treat everyone with the respect that he felt they deserved in an objective view. Especially children. He gave off that humble aura that buoyed around everyone he was with.

Kaudan, or Slickface, was the type of person who always was the first to try anything new and the first to master it if it was something you could learn. Slick's humor was loud and ready and highly mischievous. It could get anyone to worry.

So I kept their faces in mind, even when I tripped as my foot hooked in hole and I practically fell on my face. Kolon kept his own face stoically impassive, because he was far above my level and refused to laugh. I also kept in mind that he had tripped exactly the same way just an hour before, and I laughed instead.

* * *

"We're here!" father called from the top, waving down at us and pulling me out of my thoughts.

Kolon muttered a relieved, "Finally!" and trudged faster. I was the last up.

I took one look at their old ranch house inn before something slammed into me and tackled me to the ground. It was lucky that my bag provided cushioning and that it was a human that had jumped me and not a feral animal, though at that precise moment, I couldn't really see the difference.

"Stinger! You're here!" Horseshoe looked rabid. He must've been dying of boredom for him to be this excited.

I grunted, trying desperately to find leverage and push him off me while he said, "Oh, sorry. Guess you have a little more weight on your back."

_Oh, yup. Way to go figuring that out _after_ you pushed me to the ground._

He finally scrambled off me and I shoved my arms out of my pack's shoulder straps before he dragged me up.

"Slick's with the horses," Horseshoe said finally. "We thought you'd be later, so we were biding our time, but I've no problem with early. Come on!" He was already running to the stables. I took one hesitant look at my pack, guilty that someone else would have to take care of it, then took off at a sprint. I passed their inn, the same as always, as I caught up to him. Chasing him gave me a new energy that I shouldn't have been able to have after climbing up the mountainside for nearly two days straight. I managed to catch up right before he hopped the fence into the field where the cows grazed and the horses were taken to when they weren't in the stables.

I climbed after him and stopped next to Horseshoe as he watched Slickface do the most current stunt. Slick never ran out of those– learning one and moving on. Their old pangare mare, Ani, was oblivious to how Slick, running straight for her, placed gloved hands on her lower back and vaulted straight into her saddle. She immediately startled right after a bright noise of triumph from her rider that immediately turned into one of panic as Ani set off at a run. Slick fumbled to get a grip on her, but toppled straight off and was left on the grass, groaning.

Horseshoe made a repressed squeaking sound that must have been a laugh as he jogged over and offered a hand. "I never get tired of seeing you fail," he said, chortling.

"Well, yeah," Slick grumbled, her voice acidic, "Of course you would." She rubbed her shoulder and turned to me, slipping off her gloves. "Did you like that Sting? If only I could _get _it. I was this close!" Slick squinted one eye and pinched her fingers together. She shook her curled mop of hair and watched Ani come slowly to a halt in the distance.

"That horse…" Slick said moodily, but in good humor. Then suddenly, in a bright turn of emotion, stared at me. "And I thought you'd be later!"

* * *

Slick demonstrated a few more quick failures before staying on for a good couple seconds, grinning excitedly before Ani got frustrated with all the sudden weight dropping on her back and took off at a run again. This time, Slick was a little more ready and rolled upon toppling off instead of bruising the same shoulder.

As soon as she got up again, Horseshoe was copying the same motions, running straight for poor Ani and launching himself up. He listed to the left upon jolting his knee and caught awkwardly up on the saddle, scrabbling for purchase before Ani cried out indignantly and shook him off. This time, Slick could laugh. And after a few more tries from Horseshoe and several attempts from me as well, we were all laughing. But Goddess, my head hurt so badly.

I cringed from the shot of pain as I got up and tried to stop laughing because that hurt most of all. "You okay, Sting?" Slick asked, crying through her giggles.

Horseshoe hiccuped, as he often did when he laughed too hard, then looked up at the sun. It was making its descent and reaching closer to the horizon. "We should [hiccup] probably get back."

Refusing to acknowledge by nodding (or endure a few shocks of pain), I got up and followed Slick out of the field and over the fence as Horseshoe jogged Ani back over to the stables.

Slick, rolling her shoulder with a painful wince on her expression, asked to break the silence, "So how are those rolls and stuff coming along?" She swirled her hand to let me know she meant the action and not the kind you eat.

I had them down perfectly, to my utmost pride. I shrugged and gave a noncommittal gesture, for an instinctive reason. I wasn't here to prove that I spent my free time worthlessly trying to get down a few stunts.

She made a consolatory noise. "You'll get them down eventually, I'm sure."

I forced down a smile and made an effort to say something. "Thanks."

Slick nodded as Horseshoe ran up to us, slowing when he heard the tail end of our conversation. "For what?"

"Sting's been practicing the tricks I taught him last time," she said, stretching her bruised arm.

"Better than me, I suppose," Horseshoe mused.

"I wouldn't wonder why." She sighed.

He grinned, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'll give it up to your fantastic teaching."

She snorted and jabbed him in the side, to which he fought down a grunt of pain. She must've hit a sore spot, but he managed a teasing smile anyway as we clambered through the back door of their inn where we always ate our meals.

The main dining room had the usual travelers crowded around the tables in the corners, so we were forced to claim a middle table.

As I looked around, I recognized that apart from a new piece of artwork, everything looked precisely the same. All the tables were still as old as the Goddess herself and creaked when you put too much pressure on the top of them. The walls were still an odd shade of beige (I never liked beige and this one always made me feel like I was dying of monotony), and the floors were as scuffed and uneven as usual. The sad oddness of it all was a comfort to me.

We passed to the back room to get our food, because we didn't deserve to be served. I always admired the fact that Slick and Horseshoe had to pay half-price for their food, whether they were the kids of the owners or not.

Aunt Mnira was filling a bowl of broth, barley, and other various things when we stepped into the kitchen. Her hands were crabbed and red, but her face was still as beautiful as I remembered it as a child. Even a little less than a year couldn't take that away from her.

When she saw us, me specifically, her lips turned at the corners and her eyes smiled. "Stinger," she said pleasantly, setting the bowl aside and moving in to give me a hug. Her arms were bony around my shoulders, but her embrace was filled with kind memories. "How was the trip up for you?"

I cleared my throat, moving back out of her arms. "Fine," I said and gave her a half-smile.

She 'hum'ed and then said, "Kolon's out in his own room so you can be with Horseshoe."

Slick butted in quickly, "But I can–"

"No," her mother said sharply. "We've discussed this."

In answer, Slick swiped a bowl off the counter, dumped some soup in it, grabbed a roll, and with a flip of her short brown hair, stormed out of the kitchen, fuming.

Mnira sighed, her expression turning stony and exasperated. She silently passed Horseshoe the filled bowl and turned to fill another. Horseshoe looked distinctly sheepish as he grabbed a roll, as if all of this was his fault.

I muttered a quick "Thank you" and went after Slick with Horseshoe following. I situated myself across from her, eying her with a little of amusement.

Horseshoe was the one that went out of his way to console her, however. "It's not like we do anything special, Slick. We sleep, we snore, we wake up, maybe chuck a pillow or two when the other talks in his sleep. It's no big deal."

She picked moodily at her roll, peeling off the browned crust and setting it aside. "It's the _principle _of the thing," she said, and dipped a crust in her soup, spooning up all the good stuff. Quite abruptly, she looked to me. "You tell me, Sting. Is this fair? What would I do that could possibly be bad? It's just because I'm a girl, isn't it?"

"Well–" I began.

"It's stupid," she said, cross.

I smiled and sat back in my chair, shaking my head. It was, of course, but I was amused more about the fact that this still happened. She would ask my opinion, then never let me get a word in– not that I minded. I had gotten into the habit of shutting up at school, and then suddenly it translated right over to home and family. Everyone seemed to have excepted my silence quite willingly.

* * *

By the time she had said all she needed to say, both Horseshoe and I were done. I was picking absently at the wood and he was trying to pay attention to her. Good man.

"It's just… She's a girl! She should get it!"

"Maybe she wasn't like you," Horseshoe interjected helpfully.

She huffed, face screwed up in annoyance. "Clearly!"

Horseshoe glanced my way and gave me a pitiful look. I snorted, reaching for our bowls and stacking them onto each other.

Slick, suddenly pleasant and appreciative said, "_Thank _you, Stinger."

I gave her a smile and slipped away to the kitchen. The sky out the window was washed with a vivid orange glow, all the tall trees on the horizon dark silhouettes. Watching this, I placed the bowls in the sink, giving them a quick and thorough wash, then left the inn completely and picked my way through the fields to the horse stables.

It wasn't hard to smell the stables before you even got to them, no matter how clean it was inside there. I wasn't there to take a whiff just for fun though.

Evota was at the far end of the stable, standing there as if she was bored to death. She was a wonderful flaxen mare just older than seven years and I loved her. I had been present when she was born, and I could never get the wonder of the moment out of my head when I saw her. She truly was amazing.

I reached out to touch her after meeting her brown eyes. She nuzzled my hand and I felt the usual sense of calm around her. "Hey beautiful," I said, knocking my forehead against pale-crested one and keeping it there, feeling her rough warmth at my fingers.

She moved her head out from under mine and shook her white mane. I laughed. "No need to show off. All the other horses know it too." Snorting in approval she tromped in place, looking a little excited. I sighed. "No. It's dark out. You need to stay in here."

If she were human, she'd be narrowing her eyes, annoyed and insisting I had been blatantly deceptive.

"Not true!" I exclaimed. "It's not my fault you expect silly things from me."

She was clearly disapproving of that statement, but came back again to me, nudging the pole where the brush was hung. I smiled. "Well, I can do _that_."

I reached for the brush, but stopped when I saw someone at the other end of the stable.

"I was always jealous of how you could get her to like you so easily."

Chagrined and mildly colored in embarrassment, I unhooked the brush, but let it hang to my side, much to Evota's frustration. What was I supposed to say? _I'm sorry? _

"Look, it's nothing," Horseshoe continued after my silence, approaching Durgose, the great horse next to the entrance. He was an enormous horse, fit for Ganondorf himself except for his mild, gentle dappled grey coat– a color I simply couldn't imagine the evil lord straddling. "Dad's selling her anyway."

"_What_?" I said, appalled with the idea. Angry, actually, though I couldn't place the feeling at the time.

"She's not good for the work we'd need her for. Dad's been thinking of getting rid of her for months now."

It was at that moment that I recognized Horseshoe's tone of voice. My own cousin was trying to hurt me. He was jealous, and he wanted to make me feel pain.

I usually had the sense to recognize that particular tone anywhere and any variations of it, but I never expected...

The taste of acid came to the back of my throat and I was unspeakably livid. _Goddess_, he was my _cousin._

Swallowing thickly, I turned my back and went into Evota's stall, refusing to look at Horseshoe and feeling the heat at the back of my neck.

I brushed her until I heard Horseshoe leave.

Perhaps he had come to talk with me. Maybe he wanted to joke about his sister, let something loose and feel as if someone understood him. There were those that would be angry at me for my silence when they were already dangerous to me in the beginning, but there were always those that sought me out because I would never talk back to them unless they asked.

Horseshoe was always one of those people.

The door closed hollowly and I dropped my arm, leaning up against her and attempting to find solace in her warmth. She stood still for me, her breathing calm and deep.

"Is this the last time I'll see you?" I asked her softly.

She did not answer except to shift under my touch. I patted her side, a headache starting to collect between my eyes. I rubbed there, patting her again a few times just for my own comfort, then hooked her brush on its peg.

I muttered a quiet goodbye to her on my way out.


	2. Blink Away the Shock

Chapter 2  
Blink Away the Shock  
...

_The ceilings were low, floors dusty and... caught my feet sometimes. Theirs too. _

_The stairs were loud and betrayed me. They saved me, too, sometimes, when the creaky steps would tell of the others._

_I never knew if I should run, or if I should wait and be calm and let the silence and panic choke me until all there was left was nothing. Silence and the creaky steps and the marked tables._

_Between my hands, under my papers, right under my nose, I could always know those marked words would be there–_

**_Does it_**

**_HURT_**

**_Knowing you're not_**

**_loved_**

_I told myself it didn't. Those bastards didn't know what they were talking about. The words whispered lies._

_The ground was hard under my skin. Rocks slowly tried to embed themselves in my body and I tried not to look._

_"You don't belong. Demon. Devil."_

_"You shouldn't exist."_

_"Your poor Pipa, having you. Thinking it would last forever, then having your brother. You deceived him. It's your fault, you know. Your brother's beatings? It's your fault."_

_The blows didn't hurt. None of them. Biting my tongue didn't either. It was all hot and cold and the world spun and the ground fell away._

_They snarled, they screamed, they roared, they bellowed._

_They were black wolves, and I something small and lonely. The world shook and trembled and they _**_snarled…_**

_And leapt for my throat._

His snores were what woke me. I had jumped out of my dream, panting, choking on the dredges of it and on my elbows and knees as I stared at him shift and rumble in his sleep.

I wiped at the tears and froze under the cold sweat and grey light hushing in through the window.

Goddess, it had been a while since I had a dream like that. Two months? I was finally starting to get comfortable falling asleep.

Reaching for my pack, I flipped over onto my back, fumbling for my book. It was the stories of a Goron's escapade to the Old Hyrule Castle when it was still the Royal City. He had been a political ambassador, but not much was said about his purpose. He mostly told of the country and the people, what it was like and his thoughts on the different subjects of the time.

I had brought it on the trip up on the off chance that I would have time to lie around. His descriptions were fascinating and beautiful– to the point where I could envision everything perfectly. I found his description of the old Picori Festival particularly intriguing.

Just as I found the spot I had been reading in, however, Horseshoe woke with a snort and groaned. I put my book to my chest and leaned up on one elbow, and once again, made an effort to actually speak. "Mornin'."

Horseshoe rolled over, eyes wide, surprised and confused to see me in his room. He then seemed to remember almost immediately after. "Ha. I forgot. How long've you been up?"

I was about to shrug, then realized I was falling into my comfort zone again. "Not long."

He nodded and swung his legs out from under the covers, yawning. He stretched, whacking his hand on the back wall and scowling at the sudden pain.

Getting up as well, I then ignored him, a little put off that he was acting normally when he must have known his offense to my person. I wondered if he was acting quite the same as I, or if he honestly had no lasting intent against me.

Regardless, there was nothing I could do about it. Not really.

* * *

Unlike dinner, breakfast was eaten together in their family as they let their employees take over the inn for an hour or so.

Breakfast consisted of chilled cheese, honey, fresh rolls, tea, and a fried egg my brother promptly ignored and shoved onto my father's plate, keeping his expression unaffected.

"A quick blessing," Uncle Salo said, his dark voice carrying even over the tired morning talk. We quieted, all closing our eyes. "May the Goddesses bless this bounty, that it may bring us strength and good health; that we may use the strength wisely, and with that strength, carry on that which we must do. Bless this food, Goddesses, that we may serve as thee might see fit and bless us as we walk under your grace. May it be."

We all murmured, "May it be," and opened our eyes, unclasping our hands.

As usual, Aunt Mnira's food was certainly something to be grateful for– it always tasted almost artful. My father's was always simple and not quite as thought through. I did not mind it. I was grateful we could feed ourselves at all, but I loved visiting my Uncle's house, if only for the food.

As I began to finally get to my egg, Uncle Salo cleared his throat. I looked up, but he was speaking to my father.

"Arcaen, I have thought that it would be a good experience for my children to go down the mountain with you this time. I've meant them to see Old Hyrule Castletown for years–"

Horseshoe straightened next to me, looking excited. "Father?" Slick's ears moved– I saw them, really– and she was listening attentively as she sliced her cheese as if this was something she had yet to hear.

Uncle Salo ignored their reactions and continued on. "–and it's been a fair season this year. Would you perhaps take them, for just a few weeks maybe, so they might have this experience before one of them leaves our mountain permanently? I know it's not easy for you to always support your own family, so–"

"No, I'd be overjoyed to look after them both," my father objected immediately to the possibility of taking the loophole Uncle Salo offered him if he so needed it and responded with a bright look. His worry might have only been palpable to me, no matter how slight it was. It truly had been a good year, however, and I was sure he was feeling confident he could support a few extra mouths to feed for just a few weeks.

Kolon groaned like the idea gave him a stomachache. He thought our cousins were nearly as unbearable as I was, and sometimes it made me laugh. Dad shot him a cutting look and he glared at his food like a good old grouch. He was a vegetarian, so the egg definitely frustrated him, especially since Aunt Mnira seemed to have forgotten.

Slick bent over her plate, a smile etched onto her blunt features and Horseshoe turned to his father once again. "Really, father? You'll let us go?" He turned to my own father and said, "Thank you Uncle! We'll work hard. There shouldn't be any slack."

"Now," Uncle Salo said sternly, "this of course, is conditional. I trust my children will work hard, but if they _do _slack just once, you have my permission to send them straight back up here in any weather condition." Horseshoe straightened again earnestly.

My father chuckled. "No need for that. But, if we could stay up here for a day more, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Uncle Salo said, waving him away. He seemed slightly relieved that my father had agreed at all and relaxed in his chair, digging in again.

* * *

The day went quickly– much too quickly for me to enjoy it as fully as I would have liked to.

My brother had an unusual appreciation for goats, and he spent most of the day with the wrangler, Toleb, a ginger youth that could beat anyone in an arm-wrestling competition, and the herder, Shi, whose bright humor could blind anyone coming too close. He seemed friendly with them, which was good to see, and I missed seeing his smile. He was such a perky kid when he was younger and when he turned bitter toward me, it hurt.

I spent a lot of my time doing odd jobs while Slick cleaned and served at the inn and Horseshoe worked in the field with the horses– Evota excluded.

Everyone knew Horseshoe wanted to be a horse tamer. He had a gift, and yet he could never get through to Evota. He was still too kind to break her to let people ride her when she didn't want it, but clearly he was still bitter about it.

I sat on the fence surrounding the field, watching the workers mill around in the dry, wistful area. I had absolutely no desire to be there working with them. This was our break from just that. We left our fields temporarily in the hands of Keylon's family in favor of visiting our cousins for the first time in a year or so. We had finally accumulated enough money to pay someone to do the work for us, and since winter was a huge bother to come up the mountain during, we decided to go now.

Our visits were always short, but they were always worth it. It was refreshing not to be in charge.

I got a glance of Horseshoe among the men. He was tall and fair-haired– a Hylian to the bone. His face was sculpted and proud with high cheekbones and dusky blue eyes. His sister had harder features for a girl and seemed to take more after Salo than Mnira with her short fuse and rock-hard opinions. They were both unbelievably headstrong, but between the two, Horseshoe had always been the gentler, more subtle and accepting one.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face and wondering how my Aunt and Uncle would manage with their children gone. It would probably be a relief, but I wouldn't know.

"Stinger!"

I turned, opening my eyes to the abrupt voice of Slick. I gave a small flick of a wave as she reached me, climbing up to sit next to me and bunching her apron in her hands. "It's lunch break," she told me.

When I nodded, she smiled. "I'm really excited!"

"Yeah?" I watched her hands knot around her cloth as she crossed her thin legs.

She brushed her hair back, sighing. "Yup. Never seen Old Hyrule, me. It must be beautiful."

I pulled my eyes away and looked back at the fields, breathing in the muggy air. "It is."

Breathing with me, she exhaled a soft laugh, and I shared a smile with her between all the heat.

* * *

Eventually, Slick and I went back to the inn so I could arrange a lunch for myself. All there was to eat were leftovers, but I didn't mind in the slightest. The food was still good.

She picked at her nails while I sucked the rest of the honey off the spoon I used and bit into my roll.

"I get tired of this place, sometimes," she said under her breath. I recognized that it was aimed toward me, however.

I raised an eyebrow, mouth too full to answer properly.

"The same things everyday. The same view. The same chores."

Swallowing, I said, "Same here."

When she turned her face toward me, it seemed she had absorbed a bit more meaning than I had intended in my answer. "I guess it's what we're all looking for, huh? I little adventure?"

I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say, and finished up my roll instead. After a moment of thoughtful chewing, I asked, "Kolon come in yet?"

She shook her head, brown curls shivering. "You gonna make him a lunch?"

I nodded, reaching into the bread box and up above for a tin plate.

With a considering look in my direction, she reached for an apple in one of the baskets by the door and tossed it to me when I had a free hand. "Doesn't he get tired from eating the same things?"

I shrugged.

"Don't you get tired of not talking? You never do unless we ask you questions directly. Talk, that is," she observed, her expression wondering. "Some of us do notice, you know."

That reduced me to a small fit of laughter, coughing into my elbow. "Huh."

_Would've never guessed._

She rolled her eyes and sat back, watching me.

I waved away her offer when she wanted to go with me as I climbed through the door and made my way towards the ranch area. I didn't want to go around to the gate, so I climbed over the fence nimbly, successfully avoiding dropping the food.

Approaching the cluster of goats, I saw that he was sitting in front of one of the larger beasts, tearing up grass and offering the palmful to it. It looked like a private companionship. Somehow he managed not to get his hand bitten off.

Toleb and Shi could be seen in the distance, talking between two groups of goats. I could barely see them, but they were there.

I approached my brother without a word, but he knew the sound of my approach and turned, but not bothering to get up. After he knew what was in my hands, he _did _get to his feet and took the plate. He regarded me at the same time I looked him over.

"You look gross," he said.

Undoubtedly, I did, so I gave a short deadpan chuckle.

He peeked under the bowl and made a noise of approval to the fact that at least his brother remembered that he was a veggie freak.

Kolon looked the most like our mother, apparently, and I wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not. His hair was light brown, like mine, but his eyes were a bright, undiluted green. His face was slim and mature and so filled with emotion, sometimes it was hard to look him in the eyes.

He waved me away, not bothering to look up. "I'll be sure to get the plate back to the house before the goats eat it. You can go," he muttered and turned to sit down again.

I nodded, even though he didn't see me, and left with only a little hesitation.

I always wondered if he looked back at me every once and a while.

* * *

When I got back, I slept, and when I woke up, it was dinner. Turned out, I wasn't the only one that slept. Horseshoe had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. He had this odd pattern on his face and an odd case of bed-hair.

Kolon had helped Aunt Mnira make dinner, as was _usually_ consistent. He sought the companionship of adults more often than he did people his own age– an interesting development, but something that did not really bother me.

Dinner was yam and lentils with barley, brown rice, and black beans– so vegetarian I had to look at my brother when I saw it. He was eating it full-heartedly off at a corner table. It was quite obvious that he had an influence on the food choice. It tasted like home, where he influenced nearly _every_ dinner.

* * *

Father woke us all up early and we had a quick breakfast before we left. Aunt Mnira was vaguely sentimental with a few more than the necessary number of hugs and a crease between her eyes. Uncle Salo was completely unconcerned, but reinforced that Horseshoe and Slick were under no circumstance allowed to slack off. My father laughed at that until Uncle Salo made the offer– the one that had been at the back of my mind the whole visit. I had planned to talk to him about it, but apparently, the idea wasn't necessary.

"You are doing both me and my children a great favor by doing this, and I was under the impression–"

"You don't owe me anything. If anything–"

Uncle Salo's expression turned suddenly very hard and my father's voice petered into a quietus. I'd never quite seen that happen before– my father silenced. He looked to be ashamed.

"Don't even," he said sharply. "You can't blame yourself for her decisions."

My father paled and looked to the side, away from him. "What was your offer?" he said stiffly.

"One of our horses. You helped her birth, and I heard she likes your Link." For a moment, I had no idea he was talking about me. He continued, taking his eyes away from me and back to my father. "She's a little too spirited for what we need her for, but she should be just fine with you. We will pay to have her sent down separately by warping. It's not expensive and it is the least I can do."

I stared at Horseshoe, but his face was completely blank except for his usual odd stoic-ness in his posture.

My father sighed, his surprise fading from his face. "Your generosity is completely unnecessary."

"I will decide that." Uncle Salo extended his hand and my father embraced it.

"I at least thank you for letting us intrude in your home," father said, turning to Aunt Mnira.

"It was our pleasure," she said kindly. The sunlight on his face highlighted his weariness and I was stung by a jolt of concern for him. I tended to forget how hard everything must be for him from time to time.

We concluded our farewells, then started our first stretch back down the mountain. Mnira waved until we could no longer see her.


	3. And the Earth Fell Away

Chapter 3  
And the Earth Fell Away  
...

Slick and Horseshoe started out with high and early spirits, then Slick fell into the monotony of stepping and Horseshoe kept his eyes narrowed forward.

We never talked much on these long treks, but the companionship was not absent– unless my brother was especially bitter during it. Today, he seemed just fine.

I occupied my attention with watching him pick his way down in front of me, my thoughts hovering around what we would do during our visit to Old Hyrule Castle Town.

Ideas flashed through my head as fast as heading from shadow to sun under the trees.

* * *

My father had these specific spots for the nights– different for if we were going up or down. The night stop on the way down was always my favorite simply because it was so perfect in the way only nature can be.

We would set up, right in the open if the night was clear, and sleep in a circlet– a crown– of trees with a perfect view of the stars. It truly was beautiful.

Kolon was always really good at spotting the busy constellations and he'd point them out to us. It was funny how crabby he could get about hiking up a mountain, stubborn about not seeing any of the beauty, and yet he knew so much more than I about it.

He likely knew the name of every plant and whether it was edible or for healing and every critter and bird. He'd probably know what they ate and which ones were dangerous and which ones were herbivores like him, and he knew the legends better than our father by now. He lived off nature and its knowledge, and yet refused to let others see it.

Sometimes I wondered if he learned not to share his dreams and knowledge _because _he was smart.

If that was so, for any reason, I was still not totally sure why he acted like that around me. I tried to hope that was simply that he forgot he didn't need to act.

Not that I was anyone to talk.

We were all lying on our backs, even father, though he was quieter– letting us be ourselves, I suppose.

"Pontis. He's right there. See his hand?" Kolon pointed to a cluster of stars and I recognized it as one of my favorites. If you looked for perspective, it looked like a man reaching out desperately for someone. On the other hemisphere, there was a silhouette of someone just standing there, surrounded by thick swathes of stars.

There were many stories put to that. Teburne, the silhouette, in some, was the goddess Hylia where she fell in love with a mortal. Or Teburne was the princess Zelda and Pontis was either Link trying to rescue her from Ganondorf's clutches, or Pontis was Ganondorf himself, trying vainly get ahold of victory, but never succeeding. In other stories, Pontis was other villains and heroes reaching out in a last attempt for salvation.

I wasn't positive which of the stories, in varying words, I liked better, but Kolon believed Pontis was Ganondorf, and my father liked to tell the love story. Over time, I began to feel more fond towards the one that was left out, where Pontis was Link, because it seemed less hopeless.

Horseshoe pointed to a wide-spaced connection of stars. "Is that The Blessing?"

"Yeah. The Triforce," Kolon said dimly.

"Is there a harp up there somewhere?" Slick asked suddenly.

Kolon craned his neck to try to shoot a look at Slick from his position. He gave up. "No."

Horseshoe gave a quiet laugh that shook at the shoulders and sniffed. "You're such a lady, Slick. Looking for harps…"

For some reason, jabs at her gender sent Slick in more of a rage than anything else. I could tell Slick was wearing a frown, though I could not see her. Perhaps it was the night, where every emotion carried like static turning to black streams.

I closed my eyes to the lights and my cousins' words and brother's murmurs turned soft and insubstantial in my head.

* * *

When I woke, there was only half a day's journey left after we had breakfast. Our meal was cold pepper sauce on cheese rolls. The bright flavor was enough to wake anyone.

It seemed the rest of the way was easy, and soon we could see our fields, then our house once you got over one of the smaller hills, and then everything from up close– the bucket swinging at the top of the well, above the slatted cover, the shack that was nearly in shambles and in danger of collapsing over the field tools, the young ivy that was hell-bent on climbing our walls, our battered door and protective symbol over the handle that represented our family name. Thurentchael. Guardian rays.

The symbol was a simplified winged beast, a Triforce beaten onto his chest in brass, golden from how often it had been touched by childhood fingers, innocent with unborn history.

I touched it as I opened the door, relief from exhaustion throbbing like a heartbeat in my limbs. Of course– it was never as bad as climbing _up _the mountain, but I was still very tired indeed, twisting the key in the lock.

Our home looked exactly the same. Minimalist and impossibly clean, but home nevertheless.

Shoving my boots off, my feet seeming to sigh from the stress, I dumped my bags on the floor, rolling my shoulders slowly, working out the ache.

Slick and Horseshoe did similarly, Slick with a dramatic, expressive posture, Horseshoe trying to pull off that he wasn't tired. Of _course _not.

I couldn't find the energy to stretch my sun-tightened skin to smirk, and ignored the task of putting my things away before dragging myself to the well to exert pulling up a bucket of water.

I threw a handful of water across my neck, closing my eyes when the coolness made contact with my skin and perching my hands on the lip of the well. I could hear someone come up beside me and dip a hand in the water. I heard the splash as Kolon blessed his face with the bliss.

His sigh was bone-deep and I released my grip on the stones, feeling the released strain of holding tight until my knuckles went white and turned back to the house without giving Kolon a glance.

It was one of those times that I couldn't get myself to look at him in the face, for whatever reason, but I could watch a bead of water– or sweat– roll off one finger to the dirt. The earth drank it up until the evidence was gone.

That reminded me of the splashes of dark earth that took me to memories of walking home alone, feeling the oppression of pain at my back. I was just beginning to realize what a large threshold of pain I _had_. It took a lot for me to recognize a sharp discomfort or blow to my body, and I hardly ever acknowledged it anymore. Nothing stung like it used to.

Kolon took a breath that forced me to look into his face, no matter how I would regret it.

But his face was pensive, perhaps troubled. The words slid out of his mouth like something that had only just half-formed under his tongue. "I can't shake the feeling of emptiness."

_What?_

"I don't–" I managed to say before he looked at me like I was looking at him– straight in the eyes.

"It's settled over me, and I can't shake it. Is it just me?" The words caught me in the throat, and it worked in an effort to answer. I swallowed, reflecting on the days that had passed up the mountain.

At first, I began to feel a little foolish, sure that his perception of emotion was much more potent than mine, then I began to see what he meant.

He was right. Looking back, I was relatively happy. Which was the falsehood? Which was right? I hadn't said much of anything. I had allowed my cousins opinions and actions to take over mine. I thought that had been behind me, but was I, in fact, happier when I just wasn't being me?

It took me on a whole other spectrum of my silence, and it was baffling.

Now that I was back, did it mean anything?

"You _do _know what I mean, then," he said, with a tinge of relief, as if he had seen it in my face before I could even tell him. "Dad said silence falls before tragedy. Remember mom? Right before she left? The house was so silent you could have heard a tear hit the floorboards."

I felt the focus on the world around me drain like a sinking ship.

I remembered. Very clearly. I was very familiar with that silence.

"I feel it on my skin," Kolon whispered, or perhaps he hadn't whispered at all. Perhaps I was too distant for it to penetrate any louder than that.

When I realized what I was doing, I ripped my fingers away from my arms, staring at the small crescents of blood lining my flesh. I took a sudden breath of heat into my lungs and pushed off the well, feeling the prickling of the cuts, and yet not letting myself believe that something as simple as that had gotten that going again. I had enough scars on my skin without me hurting myself.

I placed a dragging hand on his shoulder before moving on, feeling the urge to stare at the ground as he was. Waiting for it to dash out from under my feet and shatter to pieces like it had so many times before.

The earth was highly unreliable, I had found, in times of pain and grief.

Sound flooded slowly back into my head the closer I got to the house again.

Keylon was at the door, his dark glower shadowed in the blazing heat by his sweating palms.

Despite that, he greeted me with his sharp tenor of a hello. "Sting! How was the trip?" His face lifted like a candle melting in reverse, his eased figure against the wall of our house less of a sag now.

I gave him a smile that I knew would be enough of an answer for at least Keylon. He was one of the few people that seemed to genuinely accept me and the silence that hounded me wherever I went.

Keylon was dark and darker. His skin was a shadowed olive and his hair was the burning empty color of a room without windows or any small shatter of light. His lazy eyes were a sharp lightning blue and his eyebrows heavy and serious to raise the harsh angles of his face. He was lean and stern, and outside of my family, he was the only one I could make myself trust.

He had never given me the looks that used to hit me like severe back-hand slashes to my cheek. _Used_ to.

"You look tired," he observed, pulling at the neck of his shirt as a line of sweat slicked down the curve of his throat. It seemed so much hotter down here.

I rubbed at my eyes, and wasn't surprised to know exactly what he meant. I was exhausted.

However, it was not even mid-day. Work loomed in front of me, and I felt like passing out. My lank hair passed in front of my eyes and I ripped it back with a burning impatience. I wasn't sure why I felt so strung out except that I was home. It was more a residence, and it sapped everything out of me. No matter where I looked, I saw tireless work, endless work, stress, and pain. Pain that threw itself at an inattentive wall– me. If I pretended I didn't care, maybe my name would have less of a hold on me.

Staring down at my scuffed toes and the dirt collected around my calves where my rolled up pants met where my boots used to end, I wasn't sure what I was waiting for. I _did _know what I was avoiding, however.

"Your father paid us to work today as well, so I'll be with you in the fields," Keylon added.

I rubbed my arms, slick with dirty sweat, and felt slightly relieved. The work would get done three times as quickly with all the additional help. The salt stung the small impressions in my arms, so I dropped my hands.

"And we should probably get started," he said slowly, shoving off the wall with what seemed an immense effort. I followed the motion like a lagging dysfunctional shadow, shoving my hands in my pockets, the muscle in my lip twitching when I stepped on a rock.

I blinked, grinding my teeth, and stepped off– and yet refusing to go get my boots again. I preferred being barefoot, and I would stubbornly hold to that.

* * *

Despite how much I hated the thought of work before it started, there was a sort of lull in the monotony of moving the same muscles– and the ache that filled half of my mind.

The other half flipped through images that were never gone. Her brown hair tickling my cheeks, the anger that flooded under the door along with the light, and even though I had never seen it at the time that it mattered, her back. I could see the door swing, then snap close just as I did the same thing, in reverse, enclosed with darkness. I fumbled for one of the lamps, hearing Kolon come in behind me. I was grateful for the early darkness as I made dinner for the three- no, five- of us. Work was over earlier when it was dark. You could give up when it was dark.

You could give in.

* * *

Evota arrived a few days later while we were busy with the fields, and it was Keylon that brought her to us. I looked up at his black figure (I could never understand why he wore black. It was hot enough without wearing dark colors.) as he towed the horse toward us.

"They dropped her at the wrong house," he said, grinning tiredly.

Kolon came up behind me, rubbing the back of his neck with his towel. "Huh. Well that was stupid of them."

Keylon's grin grew deprecating. "Can never count on those rich Cuckoos. Their brains are full of nothing but fine fabric and gold trinkets."

I reached out for Evota, receiving the reins from Keylon and touching her muzzle. She was silent, and tired.

_I feel you, girl._

I tethered her in the shade of our house for the moment, then went to go draw water from the well. She looked ready to collapse when I got back, so I set the water by her and let her be because I would have to finish work before I could stand idle and be with her.

Casting a backward look to her, I approached Keylon and Kolon again, wrapping my own towel around my hand, then tucking it into my waistband.

"–can't imagine working all year."

"Yeah, you still have another year left of school, huh? You should nail it. Your brother did." Keylon gave me another greeting look with that.

In return, I gave a tight-lipped smile. Like me, Kolon had skipped a year of school early on, but he was still a year until he could say he finished school.

Kolon, for once, wasn't bothered by this comparison– probably because we both knew he was just as smart as I was, if not smarter. It was one of the things he could proudly attest to.

I wiped my hands on my pants and moved on, flicking a goodbye wave to Keylon. The work wouldn't get done by itself.

* * *

The way to Old Hyrule Castletown was flat and not necessarily _boring,_ but a bit uneventful. It was amusing the apparent contrast between this view- my view- and my cousin's. They seemed completely floored by so much… _flatness._ No hills. No mountains. No nothing. Just flat.

Until you got to Hyrule field. Then it got exciting.

Guards patrolled the field, keeping the carnivorous birds local to the area off the common people, and setting them on anything that looked remotely uncivilized. It was often recommended not to traverse into the fields when it was dark, as there would not be anyone to keep you from danger, but some daredevil kids liked the challenge. New bridges had to be built over the rivers when the previous ones had been destroyed in the People's War. They were the only new things for the next two hundred miles around.

"Well, I almost like this better," Slick said, rubbing a sleeve across her sunburned nose.

"Than what? Controlled greenery?" Horseshoe asked as he ran a hand over the bridge railing.

Kolon was suddenly very interested after that retort. "Are you talking about New Hyrule? Is it all stonework? That's what I've heard. The most intricate designs–"

Slick shrugged. "Yeh… It can get boring after awhile, though."

"Nature changes and thrives, man's work only gets worn down."

My father grunted, hefting his satchel into a more comfortable position. "Poetic."

Horseshoe grinned. "Nah. It's a quote from something I read once– probably very inaccurately quoted."

"Well anyway, man has prevailed against nature before," Kolon said. I could tell he was bored if he was looking for an argument. I knew he did not hold that idea to heart. He was always rooting for nature– no pun intended. As for the goddess… maybe not so much.

"Not very successfully. We know how to avoid it, or put defenses up against it, but we cannot attack the elements," Horseshoe said mildly.

"Legend says there are those who could control those said elements."

"Not to to the natural disaster-level. Besides, they were all gifts from the goddess to only a select few."

"It could be taught."

"Not many held the ability to learn."

"Did anyone try, or were the wielders just abnormally protective of their gifts?"

"This is all _legend,_ Kolon. You remember that, right?" A hard expression had crossed Horseshoe's face.

Kolon stood up straighter. "Legend with _proof."_

There was a harsh breath before his answer. "Proof that has died with his legend," Horseshoe said coldly.

We had entered the path directly leading to Old Hyrule Castletown at the time that he said that, and silence descended slowly like water sliding down our throats when we already had too much to drink. We all knew who he meant.

Kolon seemed to be struggling with that, and the rare feeling of protectiveness washed over me. But he didn't need my protection. He didn't need anyone. Not anymore. He had made that clear long ago.

I rubbed the back of my hand, smoothing my fingers over my rough knuckles. It felt like a long way up to the Castletown gates, but we reached them eventually… or where they used to be.

Slick stuttered a little in his stride when we climbed the cracked steps and saw the great gates rise before us, but she didn't stop. We crossed over the drawbridge, which chains had snapped and was forever forced to grant entry.

Father halted us before the guard, letting them search his grain and person. They did the same with each of us until we were finally beyond the entrance. I kept a firm grip on Evota's reigns as they looked through her saddle-wear. She honestly didn't seem to mind the unfamiliar hands– which was an odd development, considering.

The buildings were beautiful in a sad, defeated sort of way, like a memory that had once been pleasant, but had been inked by unfathomable loss. I knew enough about that to sympathize with Old Hyrule as a whole. There were people milling around, not as many as there were on the official trading days, but still the expected amount for that time of year.

Luckily father had agreed to take care of business as we explored. I would feel bad that he was stuck doing the boring stuff, but I knew that he probably knew Old Hyrule Castletown better than half the residents put together and that this was nothing new to him.

As we wandered, I was starting to wonder if Horseshoe's head would be permanently tilted back to stare at the crumbling buildings. Until we reached the entrance to the castle, I was sure it would be. Then we all looked straight ahead.

The door was closed, per usual. Frankly, I had never seen it opened. Nor had I ever seen anyone come out of it, or wander inside it.

There were no guards. There was absolutely no one around– no one really came to this part of the town anymore. Everything looked too miserable.

But I knew exactly what Slick was thinking.

"Think we can scale those walls?"

I smiled. I couldn't help it.

Kolon shifted uneasily, a disapproving expression trying to settle itself on his face. "I don't think that's such a good idea…"

"Nonsense," Slick said immediately. "Adventure is good for the heart."

Horseshoe was completely interested in the towering gates and distracted only by his sister. Honestly, they were more sculpture than gate, depicting things half-covered by crumbly rubble and dust. He brushed a bit of it away to reveal only a small wave off the monstrous picture. "It's amazing," he said numbly. "Why is it untouched?"

That was an interesting question. I took a step back to stare at the Golden Palace's spires. The palace was indescribably old, but distinctly undamaged by anything but the careless years. It lacked the luster it once must have held, but everything was intact. Likewise, the gates were covered in the history of Castletown's destruction, but was perfectly untouched underneath all that.

Had the enemy never gotten to the castle?

"C'mon. Help me find a way in," Slick said, already jogging off the steps and around the outer wall. I was the first to follow, Horseshoe the last, and it was a while until Horseshoe could get his sister to stop running, sweet merciful Din!

She finally succumbed to walking at a normal pace.

"The walls all look the same," Kolon grumped.

"Shows how perfectly made this place must have been," Horseshoe commented, dragging a hand across the said walls.

The stonework was indeed perfect. I doubted anyone could fit a sliver of metal between the stones. They were of flawless shape and workmanship, and I reached out to touch my fingers to their surface as we walked on.

_I hefted my sword, fighting off the dread. They were surrounded. I should be helping. Dear Farore, I wanted to help. It was like wrenching my heart out with every step I took away from them, but I forced myself to sheath my sword._

_They stood valiantly. They stood with the fear of death crawling toward them. Despite their impassive rigidity, I knew how they felt. I saw their white knuckles as I passed. I clutched at the one thing that was keeping me sane… that was keeping me from doing what had been my promise. A new promise. A greater promise._

_The skies were dark with fate, as if they were destined to gaze down upon this moment on this particular day._

_I had hoped deep inside that I would not be able to hear the first of their screams. I had hoped I would be too far away._

_Their agony reached me, no matter the distance. _

_"Leave, sir. We will guard the Princess."_

_I gasped. She had been all that mattered. Why had I left her side?_

_Her words came to my mind right after the others' had, stopping me short. "We've got this. We'll be here when you get back. We'll still be fighting. Go, Karis. He is our only future. Protect our hope."_

_I pressed the boy closer to me. _**_Why me?_**

_No. No. I can't leave them._

_I _**_promised_**_._

_… They're dead anyway, brother._

_The same realization hurt like hell. _

_You can't help them._

_I won't be coming back._

_It doesn't matter._

_They're dead anyway, brother._

_Do this one last thing._

_They know not what they will lose, but there will always be a future._

_Protect our hope._

_I ran._

_I ran away from the screams._

_Dear Farore… Din… Nayru… _Help_ me do this._

I blinked, pulling away and curling my hand to my chest. My vision spun for a moment, the world tilting and whispering slipping echoes. "Stinger? What's up?"

Shaking my head, it all dispersed and I forgot why I had fallen behind in the first place with Horseshoe's words. I had to jog to catch up again.

It was a while until we saw the vines. They had been picking away at the stones for what seemed a long time, and that lit Slick's face up like little but mastery of a new skill could do.

"Horseshoe! Horseshoe, boost me up!" she said eagerly.

Her brother looked at the vines skeptically. "I dunno… Those don't look exactly– er– _stable_."

Slick snorted impatiently in response with a flick of her hair. "Won't know until I grab hold, will we? I've had worse falls."

"Does that make another more desirable?" asked Kolon, mildly amused by Slick's fervent, yet clearly flawed and hazardous logic. He watched her take a step up from Horseshoe's obediently locked fingers and hook her fingers around the vines.

Horseshoe dropped his hands, and Slick held. Slick gave a grunt, face crinkling in the stress. "Dear Farore," she gasped until her feet found holds where her hands had previously been.

We watched her climb until she had reached the top. Chest heaving, she uttered a single, "Wow." before swinging up and over the edge.

"Hey!" Horseshoe cried. "Wait!" He turned to me desperately and in a few seconds, he had reached the top as well. He peered over. "Don' see her."

He straddled the top, then leaned forward, lending a hand as far as he could reach for mine. I clung to his wrist, pulling myself up to his level with a scrabble and one single heave.

I extended the same gesture to Kolon, and took Horseshoe's spot as Horseshoe descended down the other side. Getting down proved to be considerably easier. The vines reached the bottom, and were much thicker.

"Slick! _Kaudan!_ Where'd you run off to?" Horseshoe panted, voice straining and he turned to the left where the entrance to the castle seemed to be. But he, unlike his sister, waited until we were with him to set off running.

It felt like forever until we reached the front.

Horseshoe froze in front of us and I pushed him aside. Kolon, on instinct, grabbed my arm to steady me when I staggered at the sight of the source of his paralysis, then dropped his grip in shock, eyes wide.

Once again, the silence fell.


	4. Seeing the Rattle in the Snake

Chapter 4  
Seeing the Rattle in the Snake  
...

Beautiful stonework… tainted with the brown of blood. The remains of a guard leaned against the entry, askew, ghoulish rot of a face staring at the ground. The smell was overpowering– sweet and dry.

I took a step back. The doors were flung open to give a gruesome picture of a great pile of bodies at the center of the floor, before the stairs, ribbons of old blood showing where they had been dragged from. There was a body they had not been able to get to, dangling morbidly from the broken chandelier. Half of the ornamental piece was missing, shattered all over the mass of protectors. The stairs were completely demolished except for one small section on the left. The carpets were tarnished with the same color that adorned the floor and walls.

From the vaulted ceilings down, it was like a sickening depiction of the descent to hell. White arches to blood-painted walls with signatures from the attacked– smeared handprints… dragging fingertips.

The windows were cracked and destroyed, all of the stained-glass fractured and fragmented except for the one right at the crown of the ruined stairs.

His fierce face looked up upon the heavens, fingers curled around his blessed sword. It was of the Hero.

I felt sick and gagged.

What did it mean, that the gates were undamaged but everything was destroyed in here?

"Slick!" Horseshoe called, his voice straining dangerously close to a scream.

"Here."

We all looked up to see her in the great doorway under the glass picture. Upon actually _seeing_, I noticed that the door seemed to have been torn out and the wall partly destroyed.

Horseshoe immediately began to climb the stairs, choking on his own horror. "We shouldn't be here!"

But he stopped, too.

My brother and I stopped next. I don't know what possessed me to shove them all out of the way when I saw what I did.

_"...we will guard the princess."_

I felt as if time had slowed, and I was staring through a tunnel.

A standing corpse blocked my view of the throne, struck with an arrow through the back and collapsed over the throne, but I could see what had once been a fair head askew on the royal seat drooping.

Before I realized what I was doing, I had pushed the brittle body out of the way. Its crackling hands fell away from the sword hilt, the corpse collapsing to the carpet.

I had never been so relieved to see a murdered man, crumpled over the blade.

Whatever drive that had spurred me to do what I did dissipated, and I could hear Horseshoe, horrified, say, "Stinger, what is wrong with you?"

I shook my head, turning back. All four were standing by another lone corpse, hands still clutching a bow. I glanced back at the murderer– man… Hylian? And registered the arrow embedded in his back.

Apparently, the guard had been far too late in killing the intruder.

Wait.

I gasped, whipping back to face Horseshoe, Slick, Kolon, and…

One.

Two.

Three…

Oh.

I fell back, a scream perched on my tongue. Kolon turned slowly, eyes widening. He knew my face. He knew that face.

_Run._

Terror paralyzed me as I saw the _thing _meet my brother's gaze. It was already grinning, skin peeling back from its face to reveal the skull underneath. It lifted its sword, dragging, and my brother stumbled back into Slick and Horseshoe, both of whom seemed on the very edge of running for their lives.

I watched as they made for the door, and the same skeleton-like things, eyes jewel-red, swung into their path. And now there were three.

My fingers closed around something hard, and in panic, I looked back, thinking it was something that had grabbed me and not my fingers acting on their own.

They were white against the sword's hilt.

That scared me nearly as badly as seeing the undead.

And then my brother screamed.

… In pain.

"_Kolon!"_

My hand jerked back the sword, and for a moment, it seemed as if the body of the dead king might come with it– but he didn't, and I wasn't paying attention. I was already moving.

I didn't seem to care that I had never held a sword in my life, and that I was probably carrying it wrong. I was running straight for the bastard that held a sword over my brother's head.

With I cry, I swung for its neck.

Thank Din I didn't miss. I would have been mortified on top of it all, and Kolon quite possibly dead. I cut its head cleanly off despite its blunt edge. There was a rattling gasp from it and it flipped around, hitting me straight in the stomach with the flat of its sword as it fell in finality.

The blow made my legs give out, and I could no longer breathe, but somehow I managed to keep a hold on the sword. When I fought my way to a stand again, there were more of them.

I was already half scared witless when they all screamed.

ReDeads. That's what they were.

The room filled with their unearthly wails, shrieking like metal grating against steel. My hands snapped to cover my ears and I finally dropped the sword.

It felt almost physical, sending my nerves into a shrieking pain of horror as the walls appeared to shake.

One was coming toward me.

Run.

It drew back its sword in a full body movement, still screaming.

No… no it wasn't.

But it was still ringing in my ears, my body convulsing in spasms of fear.

Run.

_Run._

_RUN._

I stumbled back just as the sword came down, slicing the side of my arm in tearing agony. I cried out, losing my balance and falling. I scrambled to get back on my feet, but then it screamed again.

Oh dear Goddess… stop.

Stop, please…

_Please._

I forced myself out of my terror with a wrench of mental strain, catching up my sword and rolling away before it could hit me again.

I chanced a look to the the side, trying to see the others.

Horseshoe was alone.

Sweet, merciful Din. My eyes stung.

I somehow came up behind the wretched thing, slicing up its back. The action pulled wrong on my wrist, and the ReDead reacted faster than I thought. It swung around and I ducked just in time to avoid its swing.

I did the same thing. I pulled myself back to my feet, jumped to the side, away from its thrust, and rolled just as it opened its mouth. In a frantic panic, I came up and stuck it straight through the back.

It shuddered and fell forward, taking my sword with it as its weight turned against me. It wrenched painfully in the muscles of my arm. I had to place a foot on its grotesque back before I could wrench my sword out again.

Despite how absolutely petrified I was with fear and slowly dawning consternation, something made me feel more alive than I had ever felt. My muscles throbbed, whether in pain or as they tired, but everything seemed so much sharper. So much more… vivid.

It felt like the first time I had hit Satcher in the face. It felt incredible.

And it drove me to keep going.

I ran to Horseshoe, who was battling his fear the best he could while managing to escape their blows, blinking, muscles burning.

When I thrust my sword into the one reaching for Horseshoe, the repulsive feeling I expected was not there. When it started to fall, I was ready for it and wrenched my blade out from between its damaged shoulder blades.

I stood bleeding before my cousin, who was gaping at me as if I had just defied Heaven, and all I could sense was how there was another one right behind me. I ducked.

My instincts weren't wrong.

I heard its rattling gasp and instead of fear, I felt vexation. _Dear Goddess, not again._

Twisting, I tucked my sword back and drove it up straight through its neck and through its skull.

Its tortured face was swept blank, and its arms fell, club in hand in an arch for my head. I cried out, wrenching the sword back, but for some reason, not able to let go or dislodge it.

Everything swung out from its balance and sank to a black.

* * *

"Sting. Stinger. _Stinger. Great, merciful Nayru… LINK."_

A whimper passed my lips, and I heard a gasp or relief and a pair of hands lay themselves against my back. "Thank the Goddess."

I blinked, but nothing became clear. "Horseshoe?"

"Yah. Think you can stand?" Like usual, he did not wait for an answer he would likely not receive. He slipped an arm under my torso and somehow he managed lifting me without killing me.

When my eyes focused and I was back on my feet (swaying a little, but standing), his blue eyes were wide, and his pupils much too large.

He took a quick breath. "Sting, those things took them. They're gone… but so are Slick and Kolon. A portal… or something."

_Which things? Weren't there only three? I killed three– no four._

The momentary surge of weary satisfaction dissipated as I took one step and my shoe broke into something. I looked down, and saw that I had crushed the forearm of one of the things. I fought back a dry retch and steadied myself further.

I had already realized they were long gone when I saw Horseshoe was alone, but a portal? They could be _anywhere. _Could ReDeads even create portals? Was it inter-dimensional traveling, or… I tried to focus on what I was doing.

Horseshoe's forehead was bleeding and he had a bruise along his jaw... My arm was numb, I was feeling faint, and my head throbbed…

We managed to find our way to the entrance again. My voice was rough when I said, "D–did you see where–"

Horseshoe looked at me, and behind the pain and shock, his look was kind. "No."

I felt the climbing dread before I even heard it. The scream. I went rigid, turning to look into the main room again. They were all climbing out of the pile, some with weapons, and all taking a jagged breath.

Then we were running.

"Holy, wonderful–" he choked on his words. "Think they can climb walls?"

I think he saw me shake my head, but I couldn't be sure, not when he jumped up and hooked a grip in the stonework. Gasping he pulled himself up. "Sting, come on!"

Climbing with my injured arm was like breaking it, then reaching in and throwing out my muscles with a great jerk. I tried to get over the top, but something tore and blood splattered the stonework, making me cry out and fall, slamming to my knees.

"Oh, Goddess! Stinger, I didn't know!" Horseshoe gasped.

'Oh, Goddess', how the world spun.

"Here, grab my arm." He reached down and through my pain-filled vision, I managed to get a good grip.

Horseshoe heaved me up with a grunt like it caused _him_ pain. We sat at the top, him shaking a little, and me staring at my arm like I couldn't quite handle what I was seeing.

And I couldn't. I vomited back over the side I came from. Along with everything in my stomach, my guts seemed to want out, too. Then raising my eyes, I saw the frozen forms of the ReDeads. I drew a trembling hand across my lips, horrified, and eerily unstable by how perfectly still they were.

"We need help. We need to tell them what _things _are just inside their walls," he whispered, and I knew that he was afraid that they could perhaps hear him. Then he said exactly what I was thinking. "Nayru, how could thy _not _know?"

I couldn't find the words to answer. Instead, I looked over the town side, eying the drop and the possible repercussions it could do to my body. _Well… Won't know until I do it, will I?_

I flung my body off the top and twisted, hoping to roll the impact off, but bracing for it anyway.

"_Sting! _What are you_, crazy?"_

In spite of his lack of confidence, I did just fine, though my arm acted a little oddly. The uncharacteristic trace of smugness flitted through my body again, and I straightened.

"I'm fine," I said finally, brushing off my clothes with my good hand and he was silent behind me.

When I looked to check on him, he was lowering himself down the wall in an almost thoughtful way. When he got to me, he tilted his head back, chin jutting out slightly, then stared me straight in the face.

"Okay. I've been waiting to ask you–"

I already knew what he was going to say, and so I interrupted. "Ask later."

Farore, I felt like I had said more in one day than I usually did in a week.

He looked abruptly taken aback, but then nodded as I ignored what seemed to be hurt playing in his eyes. "Let's take care of this, then."

For a moment, he stood still, cat-like, then bounced a little on his feet. "We're wasting time," he said to himself, and he was off.


	5. 3 Brown, 2 Blue, and 1 Pitch-Black

Chapter 5  
3 Brown, 2 Blue, and 1 Pitch-Black  
...

"Can Evota carry both of us?" Horseshoe gasped, taking a left and skidding straight into the side of a wall. He ignored whatever pain that brought him.

I shook my head then managed to say. "No use."

We kept running, pushing through the people Slick was marveling at just an hour ago. "You're right," he eventually said.

People turned their heads to stare at us, and the ones we bumped into whipped about as though we had purposefully meant to. I deliberately protected my arm, but nearly tripped right over a small Goron, recovering just at the right moment.

It was minutes later when we encountered the guards outside the warp tower and Horseshoe stopped before them, struggling to catch his breath. I was barely better off than he was in the matter of exhaustion, but my arm throbbed painfully and I saw the steady stream of blood drop from my ring finger and mar the grey tiling of south Old Castle Town.

"Boy!" one guard said sharply, but Horseshoe held up a hand to silence him.

"My sister– the ruins... King... Demons," he choked.

_Not demons. Goddess, doesn't he know his monsters when he sees them?_

The other guard scoffed. "No demons here, kid."

_Nope. No demons. Possessed souls, yes._

Horseshoe straitened to a stature that was taller than either of them. He swiped at his bruised and bloodied cheek before sweat reached it. He pointed to the castle ruins, then to my maimed arm, still dripping with blood, then to his face. With a forceful, strained voice of panic and stress, he said, "_We did not do this._"

Both regarded this fact with wider blue and brown eyes.

"We need to speak to the King. There's something _in _there and they–" his voice shattered. He cleared his throat and his words came out affected. "–my sister. She's gone."

I saw the door start to open first.

The guard on the right moved in a way that was nearly protective. "Cat–"

"No, Fana, I heard him." The girl in the doorway was striking. Her hair was a bright and shining crimson, tangled in knots over her shoulder, acid blue feathers and ribbons interwoven in a difficult complexity. Her dress was bright and solid in color– green, yellow, orange, and a dark, bruised purple in blushing transitions where the purple laced itself up from the bottom to the pale bodice. Her eyes were large and a swimmingly depthless black with long, sharp blonde eyelashes crowning them like a gateway. Her face was angular and sharp-boned and when she held out a hand, it was sudden and surprising.

"Come on. I hear truth in your words," she said, and her voice had a brittle sound to it– subject to brutal changes in emotion.

The hand was not to be held, but for her to grab hold of Horseshoe's shoulder and drag him through the tower door. She left it open for me to follow, and Fana, the guard, closed it after me.

Their words echoed through the wood door.

"It can't be."

"She knows. She always knows."

I stumbled up the stairs, cradling my limp arm, away from those words. I didn't want to hear their mystery riddled with fate.

I came through the top door hardly a second after Cat and Horseshoe had just that space of time to take in the room and crazy patterns all over the walls and floor before something was thrown at me. I caught it one-handed with a _thwack _and my hand stung as I took a step back in shock.

But it was nothing. Horseshoe held a bottle as well full of a swirling liquid. "A red potion?" he said in bewilderment, then uncorked it.

I did the same only after he downed a quarter of it. I'd had it before– clearly he had not– but my eyes stung ruthlessly with his just by watching. It tasted like acrid and impossibly hot oil, but I did the same anyways, but drinking twice as much.

The feel of it burning down my throat made me gasp, my fingers fumbling to re-cork the bottle with only one hand to do it. The feeling overwhelmed my senses until I looked down to see that my wound had closed, but had left a discolored look of a bruise. I moved it and closed my eyes in pain.

At least I could move it. I knew no one should take more than half a bottle at a time. I could pass out if I drank more without space in between.

I blinked my eyes open again and took time to look at the room while Horseshoe still adjusted from his first dose ever. While I looked, I successfully got the cork back in the bottle and let my hand fall to my side.

There was a circular platform in the very middle of the room and every design careened off it in the form of curly-cues, birds, sharp points, and small hidden images. The patterns did not touch a small section on each of the three walls in the form of a triangle. The base dark green and black effect with gold highlights made me shiver, and suddenly, I did not want to be stepping on these beautiful floors with my dusty boots.

Each triangle had a dim shading that bled out and dispersed and eventually vanished. The dark details grew cramped the closer they were to the corners and in the end seeped to a flat black.

On the right wall, the triangle leaked out a shining gloss of a green– bare hints of it fringing some of the images. On the left, there was a pale bluish-grey color accentuating the details, then straight ahead it was a deep blood red.

It wasn't until I looked at the bigger picture that I saw the drawings outlined great images of people.

Courage had Link braced in front of it with one hand stretched out, fingers curling, small shining specks on his left hand where he held his sword in the ground. His expression was hard and sure, but sincere. His pupils were circles with keyholes in them and his irises bled the shining green. A massive tree extended out behind him and three orbs spun about on his other side.

I turned to Wisdom and saw the bare outline of a girl with trailing sleeves, one hand behind and just slipping off the side of the triangle. A sun was before her and she was circled by triangular rays going out of her. A harp dangled from her other hand and to my surprise, I saw a Sheikah symbol upon her back. Her right hand had the detail that Link's left hand had. This was either Hylia or more probably Zelda.

And straight ahead, Ganondorf had both hands on Power and had his face tilted upward. His legs were apart and planted firm. His great billowing cape reached the far bottom corners of his wall. A sword that looked curiously a lot like the Master Sword but much larger and more jagged lay at his feet.

I then thought to look down.

The platform was held in the arms of the flat, vague figures of women, each of their backs to one wall. There was no color, but I could guess who they were. I could not see what was depicted on the platform because Cat, the woman, stood upon it.

I took one last sweeping glance of the room, noting the small triangular cabinets nestled in each corner and the strange, scuffed images of a girl below Link's wall, a man below Ganondorf's wall, and boy below Wisdom's wall. I placed my half-empty bottle on one of the cabinets, unsure what to do with it otherwise.

I took in a breath, and then was unsure what I wanted to say. Cat waited, staring straight at me.

Her black eyes were the most expressive thing on her face, and they looked like they found me quite droll and regular. I stared back.

Horseshoe took a step towards her and I followed suit, though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Are you warping us?" Horseshoe asked tentatively.

"You won't like it," she said flatly, but beckoned us to stand on either side of her. I took to her right side and she extended the end of an orange ribbon wound around her wrist to me. I wasn't sure what to do except pinch it with my forefinger and thumb, feeling foolish.

Horseshoe did the same, his eyes confused, but still slightly panicked, like he was barely able to grapple with the facts.

Suddenly silence was realized and it was tangible. It was like a taste. Then a dim, swooning song seemed to exude from the ground until it filled my ears with overwhelming palpability.

Then, it started. I felt as if I was melting down, but upward. My every bone ached with screaming pain as it was ground into dust and the flames ate at my skin until it was only ash. The world warped around me, a gasping and deathly white blankness. Silver jolts of lightning agony flashed across what was impossible to see, and it was like forever was descending in wrath.

But it was just seconds, and I fell to my knees, my hand that had been holding iron to the ribbon going slack. Everything spun and tilted and I thought I might be falling sideways. My stomach churned and I was more sore than I had ever been in my life. I shuddered uncontrollably and I couldn't see very well. Everything was blurry and I was _trying _to focus, but my eyes weren't obeying me.

Then as suddenly as the warping had stopped, everything came together all at once, but my stomach heaved. I gasped for air, working around the overpowering urge to vomit. I was drenched in a cold sweat.

I steeled myself and pushed off the ground, getting to a shaky stand. Horseshoe seemed to be in worse shape than I was, and could not seem to resist the compulsion to empty his roiling stomach.

I was not sure if he swallowed it, or just overcame it, but he stood up also, his face looking slightly green.

Cat stood, watching and said slowly, "Good for you. Most people _do _throw up. It can be awfully nasty."

She seemed rather dull to me beyond her appearance.

However the room wasn't much more interesting than her, unfortunately. It was a very plain white and there was absolutely nothing in it. Everything was so white, it was hard to look at and reminded me painfully of the warping. Even the platform was a shadowy, bleached white.

If people did vomit, how did they keep it so clean?

"Do we have to pay?" Horseshoe asked, and his voice came out slightly garbled. He still looked sickly pale, but I was slowly starting to feel better.

She sighed. "No, but you best see the king's secretary quick as you can. She's through that door, then to the left, first door on the right."

And before we could even compute her words through our heads she stepped on the platform and was gone. No song, no flash, just gone.

Horseshoe took a deeply tight breath in through his teeth. "That was terrible."

In all fairness, she _did _warn us.

He began walking down the long hallway that led to the door that she had spoke of. It was big, plain, and white. He opened the door, and color welcomed us.

The carpets were red and gold and the walls were grand marble, filled with veins of various colors. Lights hung from above, empty of flame, but the large windows flooded the corridor with the shy light of the sun gazing over the mountains. I wondered where we were for a moment, then took a logical guess. Everything was new. We were encircled by mountains. There was really only one answer.

To our right, there was a plain wooden door that seemed to lead somewhere completely insignificant, but intrigued me anyways. Horseshoe ignored my curiosity and turned to the left, walking straight up to the door we were meant to go through.

He rapped once on the door and stepped right through, without invitation.

I admired his brazenness, but then again, we could have been running out of time.


	6. The Inflection in Invention

Chapter 6  
The Inflection in Invention  
...

The room we entered into was very interesting, simply because it was filled with harps of all shapes and sizes. Small lyres and enormous stand-alone ones, shining gold, silver, copper, and strangely even glass. I had a suspicion that one was for decor.

There were other instruments as well– like an assortment of ocarinas on one table, and a large pan flute leaning against a wall. There was a cello of sorts in a far corner and a circle of bells and chimes in the very middle of the room, blocking some of our view.

There was a polite, "Hello?" that sent the chimes tinkling a silvery sound.

Horseshoe made his way around the centerpiece by going to the right, while I went to the left. Horseshoe saw the secretary first. I saw her assistant.

I saw the assistant first because her eyes landed on me like a feral jungle cat's. They bored into my skin, crimson in color, and I was affixed by them for a strange, uncomfortable moment.

The piercing eyes were heavily-lidded and lazy-looking, but sharper than anything I'd ever encountered if I wasn't convinced my brother's nails were already. She had broad shoulders, but a twig-like figure, a small nose, thin eyebrows and Hylian ears that drooped a little, as if she were severely bored. Her expression, besides her gaze, supported that with pouty lips and impatiently crossed legs. She was surrounded by the red light of the window and it gave an effect like madness.

A small, silver hoop in her left ear caught my eye, and then they flitted to the secretary behind the desk.

She was standing, unlike her assistant seated on the windowsill and seemed as transfixed by Horseshoe as I had been by her assistant.

She cleared her throat loudly, then took a motion to step around her desk. "Hello?"

Horseshoe shook his head. "Sorry. Uh–"

"What do you need," she said carefully, but it sounded eager, and gentle.

"I– uh… Are you the King's secretary?"

She seemed to be relaxing a bit more, but I could still feel her assistant's eyes on my face. The secretary leaned against her desk. "I am. My name's Harper. Behind me is my bodyguard, Inza."

Inza didn't move– even when I cast an awkward look her way.

Harper seemed a fitting name.

"Oh. Okay," Horseshoe said, and his nervous tension was transparent.

Again, I felt Inza's eyes boring into my skin, perhaps my soul, as Horseshoe said, "My name is Horseshoe Decavalier and his name is Stinger– uhm… Thurentchael." He always had trouble pronouncing my name. Him and the rest of the population. Didn't stop me from liking it, though.

Harper spared me a small glance with her liquid grey-silver eyes, and then looked straight back at Horseshoe. "Is your proper name Link by any chance?"

Horseshoe blinked. "Yes," he said slowly, and the word was drawn out. I felt a 'why' wanting to come out of his mouth, but instead he carried on. "I need to speak to you of events in Old Hyrule Castle."

Harper raised her arching eyebrows, but I could not help but look at Inza again, unnerved by her staring. But then Horseshoe started his story, filled with wordless pauses, and I closed my eyes to it all. I could see it all happening as he said it.

My arm ached.

He didn't seem to know quite what to say over my mauling of the ReDeads, but he stubbornly referred to them as Demons. I _really _wanted to correct him.

At the end, the silence descended again. I took a step back to get away from the words, as if they were escapable, and brushed against the chimes.

I opened my eyes to the sudden gentle noise as Harper began to speak.

"That's… troubling."

A flash of something near her hand caught my eye, but it must have been nothing– perhaps her bracelet. I looked up to Inza just as she lowered herself from her windowsill. She was nearly as tall as I was.

Details started swimming around in my head like an ineluctable undercurrent and I was just swallowing more.

Harper went back around to sit at her desk, tugging at her low, sleek blonde ponytail. She did not have any hair in her face, it was all pulled back, and I was struck by how young she was to be the King's secretary.

And Inza seemed just as old as her charge was.

Everything was fitting together, then I thought of how dangerous that possibility was. How did Cat know we were genuine?

I watched Inza roam the room silently. She never looked at me again.

"I– is there something you can do?" Horseshoe said dimly.

I turned to look at Harper again as she looked at her hands splayed across her table. There was something odd in this whole situation. I couldn't tell if it was because we were idling here, waiting instead of chasing after things blindly, or because we were putting the safety of our siblings in the hands of the unknown. Regardless of why, something didn't feel right.

"Of course," she said. "But I need time to discuss with Inza. Maybe the King. We will see. For now, I extend an offer for you to stay here until we resolve our decision."

The offer was a question. I felt she wanted us to stay, or mainly Horseshoe.

He paled a little at the assumption that this would take a long time. Perhaps too long. "Yes– thank you. How long will…" He paused. "It take?"

"We will not prolong your siblings' possible suffering. I will try to make this quick for you. You may leave," she said. "Inza will escort you to your rooms."

Horseshoe said something surprising. "But she's your bodyguard. You'll need her here, right?"

Harper smiled for the first time. The smile was… well… beautiful. "I'll be fine."

Inza nearly gave me a heart-attack when she appeared beside me. "Come on then," Inza said. Her voice was mellow and surprisingly light. Almost billowy.

Horseshoe barely hesitated, but followed. I meant to walk behind her, but she did not seem to insist that, instead walking beside us.

As we exited through the door, she asked, "What were you doing in the ruins?"

"Exploring," Horseshoe replied instantly. "My sister and I had never been there before."

"But Stinger has?" she asked.

"Yes– he and his brother," he said. "He lives just a bit away from it with his father."

"Just a father and brother?"

Horseshoe had the grace to be silent and I purposefully looked down, but she pressed for an answer.

"Haven't you a mother?" she asked me.

I didn't dare answer, instead allowing Horseshoe to do it for me. "He does, I suppose. It depends what you mean." He was straining to be curt. I bit my tongue on the fury that swelled up in my stomach. I should have been grateful that he was protecting me, but I wasn't.

"Is she dead?"

"No…" Horseshoe said quietly.

"Is she mental?"

Horseshoe couldn't help but scoff. I smiled ruefully as he said the words I wish I could have had the will to say. "Would make sense if she was."

There was silence. It was just us walking, and then Inza came to the conclusion. "She walked out? On two sons?"

"She fell in– yes. She left," he said quickly when I flinched. My own reaction betrayed me and I attempted to straighten under her gaze.

We stopped before a door, but Inza stood in front of it. She crossed her arms and I knew she was looking at me again. It sent a cascade of ice down my back and I mused of how I had never felt so subdued by someone. "Are you dumb, Stinger?"

I looked up, emotion diffusing out of me. I wasn't sure if I was surprised or hurt, but at first I was insulted, thinking she meant another thing, then blinked when I knew what she meant.

I think I might have been hurt. My mind turned to Kolon.

I stared at her, straight back at her and let the word out of my mouth. "No." It was an exhalation of sorts.

"Simple-minded, then?" She directed this question to Horseshoe.

I was insulted again and I responded before Horseshoe could. I didn't even have to think about my answer. "No, I'm not."

"Then why do you speak so little, Stinger?" she asked callously.

Horseshoe turned to me and I found myself suddenly daunted, as if I were a child again, cornered at the side of a building. _Think you're above us, don't you?_

"Is it by choice, or is it hard to speak?" Her questions began to get to me. I did not want to answer. I didn't. So why did she keep asking?

"Habit," I said evasively. _Don't do this to me, please. I have my secrets. You have yours. Leave mine alone._

Inza looked at me long and hard. "Interesting."

She didn't look like she found it interesting. Her face was completely impassive.

I held back a tight breath of relief when she moved out of the way and opened the door.

Horseshoe moved through it and I could see his head turn up to look around and I was ready to do the same, but I felt a touch on my arm. I flinched away instinctively, the tender skin protesting with an unbelievable throb of pain.

"You'll want that fixed properly," she told me quietly and led me away from the door. The wood slipped off my fingers and I found myself following. The carpet muffled our steps like walking on petals and I wished for the chance to bend and sweep my fingers along it, just wondering for its feel.

I drew my attention back to what was persisting– that being that I wasn't sure what I thought of Inza. Her gaze put me off, in the least, and her interrogation was verging close to unpleasant memories.

And yet, I walked tall anyway, noticing how our strides contrasted a starkly as black and white. Me– the farmer's boy whose skin was as brown as the twisted April trees, silent and falling to the earth for solace that couldn't be kept. My walk was slow and even and very nearly lazy, as if I were outside, drinking in fresh air and sweating under the sun like every day. Inza– unmoving, straight and stalk still in her movement, one that moved in the shadows in a rolling step. She looked like one that had never left the solitude of walls at all in her life.

In just moments, I had no idea where I was. I was standing outside a small room where she disappeared in the blackness. It occurred to me that I should be nervous. I had no idea what was in there, and she could come out with a knife and I knew, could feel it in my gut that next thing. I'd be right dead. No chance.

So I moved just next to the door, hoping I'd have a chance if she sprung out right away– maybe use my meager skills.

My impossible paranoia could never hurt. Not anymore. I was already nearly a recluse anyway.

Inza walked out, right and proper, cast a look around, and set eyes on me. She raised her eyebrows, looking over a position I had gotten used to. Relaxed, but feeling every muscle and ready to twist, eyes flitting to the weak points.

Then it was a test, I could feel it, right when she flung the scissors at me. It was a flash of silver and I barely saw her throw them.

Holy Farore.

I twitched, but knew they wouldn't touch me except on the way down from hitting the wall. There was the small shriek that sent a trail of anxiety down my back when it hit the marble, then I caught the scissors flat on my hand and offered them back to her. I felt the cold metal against my skin before she wrapped her fingers around them again and wondered what it would feel like in my chest.

Painful.

I tried not to glance to see if there was a dent in the wall.

She took them like nothing had happened and said, sitting down cross-legged on the carpet of the hall, "Show me your arm."

I extended my fist, and got my fingers to relax as she took my wrist in hers and dragged me down in front of her, my back to the wall. The stone was cold on my shoulder-blades, and my mind flitted to the many blankets one would need to stay warm in the winter, then rushed back to the present as she reached out with her fingers to touch the damaged, but sealed, bruised skin.

My instincts revolted, saying, _Don't _**_touch _**_me!_ but I mastered myself and remained still as one finger landed with deliberate softness, like a floating seed touching to the earth, on my skin.

Her skin might have been brown, but mine was golden, and at first, I didn't feel her touch, then it shot up my arm like she had pinned me with a needle. My muscles jerked.

"This was healed badly," she said unnecessarily.

I didn't know red potion could 'heal badly' at all. Perhaps it had gone past its expiration date, but my skin was tight, and I could see an image clearly of it splitting again, and it settled in my stomach like a painful forced swallow of something I hadn't intended to drink.

She continued, her voice empty, on how it was possible that with one true strain on my arm and the sealed wound would reopen as she hovered her fingers over the pale white seal of a scar drawing up my arm. The cut seemed so deliberate, but it was horribly jagged.

Inza touched a small bottle she had set by her thoughtfully, her fingers still wrapped around my wrist, though it was relaxed. She exhaled softly, and took her hands away, letting her eyes rest on my face. I looked down at my arm resting on my knee, not willing to register her gaze, or seeking to avoid it. I was wondering why she hesitated.

"Where did you learn to fight?"

I had expected her to have more patience than that, and I contemplated answering her question. My lips pressed together and then I gnawed at them, distracted by the tight skin. Images of the ReDeads formed in my mind.

"Can you answer me?"

I tasted the words on my tongue, then let them go, deciding it wouldn't hurt. She wasn't my enemy. "I didn't."

It was curious hearing my voice, not raised to be heard like I normally had to do if someone wanted an answer– they only listened for loud words. It was a whisper.

"No– that was a battle stance," she insisted, and I was hit with how stubborn she seemed to be. I was not sure if that irked me or not. My cousins were stubborn. My family was stubborn as mountains, but her words were spoken right out of her head, no slow refinement to them.

I settled against the wall and raised an eyebrow, tucking a hand between my arm and torso and refusing to let the bruise manifest on my face. My whole right side ached. I rehearsed the words in my head before speaking them aloud, trying to think around the pain. "I'd have run, not fought."

_Well, _**_that's _**_not true._

For a moment, she mouthed those words, then her eyes focused on me again. I found their red color an unnerving addition to her gaze. The said gaze hardened. "Who took care of the ReDeads?" Her voice was soft, too.

_She _knew what they were.

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. "You mean the demons?" I bit my bottom lip as she quirked a withering look at me. After a second, I said hurriedly, "I'm joking."

Inza took a slow breath, as though she thought I was completely ridiculous. I resented that.

"I'll heal your arm now."

* * *

I made my way back to the room with her help, my arm stinging and tight by my side. It would heal better now, but what she did still hurt. She was, in fact, long gone, having turned about on her heel and vanished around a corner, her fair blonde hair the last thing I saw of her.

When Horseshoe looked up from the center of the floor, I felt more than a little guilty for keeping him up. Immediately after, I looked around the room, wondering why he would be on the ground instead of– well… anywhere else. There was a window seat, two beds, three chairs and– and– I was very tired.

"You took your time," Horseshoe said blearily and got up, shaking himself off like he had been covered by dust and cobwebs for many years.

I cast him an apologetic look and closed the door behind me. The room was plain, but comfortable, and I eyed one of the beds tiredly.

Horseshoe clambered slowly onto one of the said beds, kicking off his shoes and flopping down with a yawn. "Dear Farore, it's soft," he mumbled, inhaling deeply, and with one exhale, I knew he was out.

Sometimes I admired his ability to fall asleep whenever he wished.

I considered fumbling with my shirt one-handed to get it off, slipping off my boots during the while, folding my shirt carefully, going to the bathroom, cleaning up, and doing just as Horseshoe did and sliding into bed. But instead, I found that the darkness brought much more along with it than just the desire to sleep under its lull.

One.

Two.

Three.

Why didn't I see it sooner?

My eyes lighted on the bathroom door and I sighed, knowing the insane feeling of salt and exhaustion on my skin. I saw the door swing open and skeletal features grinning out at me, rotting flesh, and destroyed lives, and closed my eyes.

There, they still plagued me.

My brother screamed, my arm throbbed, my head ached, the monsters shrieked, and a chill ripped through my body.

I went inside the bathroom, to be alone, and to hear just silence. I hoped it would drown everything out. I hoped it would be like when Mom left. Let the nightmares be silenced.

Instead, I found myself looking into a mirror.

Rarely did I see a mirror, and I was rather surprised that I had changed since I had last caught image of myself. My skin was darker, naturally, and my eyes were set in soft contrast against it with their golden blue-green color. The features of my face had gotten sharper. My hair was considerably longer, and it narrowed my already slim face. It needed to be cut badly, as I had been putting it in a ponytail for at least half a year now– and besides blearily tired, I looked… I attempted to find words, then shook my head. If it weren't that my eyes were blue, I'd say there wasn't too much difference between me and the ReDead.

They reflected back at me.

And reminded me of my own screams of despair.

When I finally caught myself out of my trance, I knew I couldn't sleep even if I hadn't in days. Not with their image behind my eyes.

With the silence, and my brain unoccupied, my arm hurt a bit more, but not enough to distract my thoughts. It all hit me slowly, and I curled up against it, insisting that I had never been afraid of the dark. One thing gone wrong will not change that outlook.

But still, I felt the darkness leering at me, and I shut down my mind with a sharp order.

No, I could not go to bed.


	7. Disarrange and Polarize

Chapter 7  
Disarrange and Polarize  
...

I sipped back into the bedroom, gazing tiredly at Horseshoe. What had he not seen that I had? He could sleep. Why couldn't I?

_Because he's stronger than you._

I looked away from him. The curtains were a shallow green color from what I could see from the pathetic moonlight, and parting them did little difference to the brightness of the room as a whole.

_Kolon._

He didn't deserve this. I was waiting here, in a castle he had dreamed of seeing, waiting for permission to go after him. If I knew where he was, I _would _go.

I took a step back from the window and searched for the lamp in the mild darkness. It was self-igniting, where you simply had to turn a cog-like mechanism on the side. It was a moment before I remembered how I was covered in blood as I stretched my hand out to the door.

For a second, I wondered if it really mattered, then made my way to the full dresser anyway, opening it quietly and rifling through the garments. Blue, gold, red, green… I carefully unhooked the green vest off its hanger and took up a clean shirt, slipping them both on quickly. Soon the moon would hide and the sun would crawl out. I didn't want questions as I wandered lost inside a castle looking to satiate my needs for an ending. Hopefully, I wouldn't get lost in the first place.

I tried valiantly to find my way to the library, but failed. _That's three dead-ends now and many worthless hours of wandering._

_All I want is to finish my book._

Drawing a restless hand through my hair, I turned, blowing out the light as I realized I no longer needed it. I stepped out into the hallway again and looked each way.

"Sting."

"Holy mother of Nayru!" I cried, swinging around and slamming my shoulder into the corner wall. "How did you–"

Inza raised a single blonde eyebrow, arms crossed. "So he speaks."

"You've _heard _me sp–" I stopped, sighing, and let it go. I looked at her, about to rub my shoulder for its throbbing, then decided against it.

She appeared no different from just a few hours or so ago except that, if possible, her eyes seemed sharper.

"What are you doing, sneaking about so early?"

"If it weren't early, would you not ask me the same such question?" I said instantly, then added, already defeated by my words. "I wasn't sneaking."

Her other brow raised itself and she supposed a dispassionate stance, resting against the wall. Interestingly enough, she was running with my attitude. I winced inwardly at my carelessness. "No? You are a curious man."

I gave a short, unamused laugh. Again, inwardly, I was panicking a little. "Hardly a man."

She ignored me. "So, if you were not sneaking, what is your purpose here?"

Fingering the handle of the lamp, I said, "I haven't a purpose here. I have a purpose elsewhere, but not here." thinking, at the time, _Dear Nayru, I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm an idiot._

For once, she seemed amused. "And I thought you a man of little words, and yet here you are, deliberately playing its art."

I silenced myself and mustered a sort of glare.

Her laugh was mocking, and she rolled her eyes back, as if, again, she found me perfectly ridiculous. "So I take it you're lost. Looking for the kitchens? For the training grounds? For the nurseries, perhaps, where a not-quite-man belongs?"

"How amusing you must find yourself," I shot at her caustically, brushing my ever-persistent hair back again.

Inza brought her eyes down to me and straightened. "What happened to your silence?" she demanded.

"It went and lost itself, along with the rest of me."

She stared, ever insisting.

I inhaled slowly. "You're a stranger."

_Or I'm a fool._ _If I knew you better, perhaps I'd know not to trust you._

"Ah."

"No, not 'ah'," I said, vexed now. "I don't like you. Either beat it or help me find the library."

Now she seemed surprised. Her expressions seemed to change with the wind, but her eyes stayed straight, a curious beast intent on her prey. "The library? You look for the library?"

"Do you search for your hearing? You should. I said library. I meant it."

_Shooting my mouth off, just like the good times. Old habits die hard._

She laughed again, short, and with little sound behind it. "If I knew you had such a sharp tongue, I would have scared you sooner to hear it."

"If I knew you were so slow to act, I would have left long ago. How long will I have to stay waiting here?" I said with vitriol, crossing my arms.

She grinned. "You're in the servants' passageways. You'll get easily lost here."

_You know that's not what I meant._

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the obviousness of that statement."

Inza, still smiling, moved back to the dead-end. "Well, time to show you where you ended up, I suppose." She reached up and twisted something I couldn't see, and the whole wall took itself up, sliding into who-knows-where.

The hallway flooded with a brighter light and beyond the doorway was what appeared to be the throne room. Large, spacious, brightly lit, and pristine. "Why are you showing me this?"

Inza looked at me sharply. "Are you implying that I should not trust you?"

I crossed my arms, considering her question darkly, while looking at the large room from a distance. I wished I could move closer, but…

"You shouldn't trust anyone this easily. It's absurd."

Whatever I expected, I did not think she would laugh. Again.

I narrowed my eyes as she took a moment to keep the humor in the dark. "It's not. It's really not. If you had any evil intent, you'd still be behind our warping door."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Magical entry blocks are illegal."

She shrugged and moved past me. "Yes, well, we have our liberties, and the only people who would deny us such have evil intent," she said, then turned back to look at me. "Are you just going to stand there?"

Before I gave in, I said, "I'm not looking for the throne room. I'm looking for the library."

She rolled her eyes. "After, Stinger."

Of all times– of all the random times, I was suddenly hit with a thought. _Dad._

I think I may have surprised her by the colorful stream of words spilling out of my mouth.

Just imagining him not being able to find us, worried sick, angry, frustrated… worried. We had a meeting spot. What he must be going through–

"I'm sorry?" Inza said coldly. A few choice words, and she looked exactly how she had been when I first spotted her.

I waved her off, gnawing at my lip, rubbing my knuckles. "Not you. Is there a way I can get a word to someone from here?"

Her eyes narrowed, intense suspicion lining her expression under her eyes, but she smirked. "Stinger, you know where we are. We 'can' do anything." She folded her arms slowly, and as though on cue, the door slammed closed behind her, cutting off the slightly dazzling light. "The question is why?"

Believing that I had never met someone to be so offensive just by being near me, I said, "Because you have your 'liberties'."

Her lips twitched minimally, but before she could say anything, I asked her the first thing that bothered me about all of this. "Why aren't you with Harper?"

"What's the _real_ reason you don't talk to anyone?" she shot back.

I straightened. "Are you Sheikah?"

"Stop rubbing your left hand," she said acutely, quick enough and commanding enough to make me do just that. I shoved my hands in my pockets, shocked, and more than a little unnerved. "Answer my questions and I'll answer yours."

I gritted my teeth.

_Think._

I had the upper hand. Or I hoped so– no relying on Horseshoe to keep his mouth shut.

"No. Show me the library," I said forcefully.

She flicked her hair off her shoulder. "I don't have to do anything."

I splayed my hands out. "Then we're at an impasse."

"No, we're not," she insisted. "Think reasonably, Stinger. We can't let you boys go until we know why you're really here–"

I stiffened. "Are you _serious_?"

"–you need to write whomever you left behind, or someone else, andfor some reason, you want in to our Royal Library." She laced her fingers together, regarding me cooly, cutely.

_Good Goddess._

"Okay, first off–"

"_And _I could beat you to a pulp in a fight."

I could feel my muscles start to twitch. "That was completely unnecessary," I said slowly.

She shrugged. "Maybe, but I wanted to say it anyway."

"You are a complete snob."

"And _you_ know you're losing."

If I had the ability to self-combust, I was on the verge of discovering it.

Maybe she thought she was giving me the opportunity to cool down by picking at her nails.

She wasn't.

Finally she spoke. "Hungry?"

"What," I growled, "is wrong with you?"

She held up her hands, investigating her nails.

"It's a simple question," she said, aggravatingly reasonable.

I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply, then let it all out. It didn't work. And yet, at the back of my mind, I didn't want to let this anger go– no. Not at all.

"Show me the kitchens, and I'll show you what a crumpet looks like flying toward your face," I muttered.

She smirked. "Tempting."

I clenched my fists at my sides, then mustered all the good sense she had left me with and managed to spit out a frustrated, "Fine."

* * *

"So," she said evenly, crossing her legs under the table and taking a knife and buttering a (Goddess send her to the Dark World, please) crumpet. "first question…"

I stared at my plate condescendingly as I scribbled my signature at the end of my letter. The glass had cute little creme flower designs on it.

_Why._

"Why didn't you talk at first?"

I folded the letter, and she took it, setting it beside her own plate. Slowly, I leaned back, crushing my own hands and staring hateful daggers at her. "Next question."

She took a bite of her crumpet and mirrored my position minus the aggression. She raised a slender eyebrow, swallowing.

In the time that I had met her, I found her one of the most insufferable creatures I had ever encountered. Why? She was pompous and level-headed, nosy, blatantly unaffected, and her stare had just the flavor to it that I hated more than anything.

I looked away, and despised myself for it.

"Want me to guess?" she said coolly, taking another bite.

We were sitting at a small table in the Castle courtyard, possibly meant for just the intended purpose that we were using it for– pleasant (as if) conversation (interrogation) over tea (stupid crumpets). The inner courtyard was full of bright flowers, cute trees, absurd shrubbery, and mosquitoes. You would think they'd have better sense than to dig a pond in the middle of the castle. I almost preferred ReDeads to a million bug bites.

"No."

"Does it have something to do with your mother?"

_Die._

"It's personal."

"Father?"

I didn't answer, watching a butterfly lazily make its way to one of the brighter cluster of flowers.

"Brother?"

I stilled my hands and stared intently at the stone garden walls. They were an unassuming sort of beige. I hated beige. Beige was an ugly color. It looked like cat vomit.

"Look, you either tell me, or I come up with some fanciful story. Your pick," she said as she placed the rest of her crumpet on her plate.

I shrugged noncommittally, giving up. "It's self-preservation."

"Okay?"

"They lost interest in me if I didn't fight back."

There was a short silence before, "Who?"

I scoffed. "Everyone."

"And you said it was habit before."

I found my eyes on hers again. "I know what I said."

She shifted in her seat, cocking her head to the side, eyes calm. Not piercing. Calm. "Self-preservation and habit."

"Self-preservation… and repression," I corrected.

She tapped her mouth with two fingers, pressing her lips together. "And _this _has to do with your mother?"

When I started to realize how I was gnawing at my lips again, I bit down, hard. I winced. "Yes."

"She walked out."

"Yes."

"Why?"

This was when I started getting angry again, but I pushed it down. "She found someone else who caught her fancy."

Her raised eyebrows were enough to make me regret all of this ten times more than I did at the beginning.

"I was already beat enough before that– her leaving made it worse," I said, tasting the words on my tongue. I reached out for my fork and some egg before it could poison my mouth.

She let me eat for a minute before she jumped to the questions again. I knew it was coming, and tried to prepare myself. "Why were you being beat up before?"

"Because I was conceived out of wedlock. My father fell in love with a whore, and it wasn't a secret," I said without the pause that would have left me a coward and unwilling, trying to swallow my food, but finding it hard to do so around the angry feeling in my gut and my tight throat.

Inza gave a weak whistle. "Well, that clears up a few things."

I glared at her and pulled back from my plate.

A sort of regression passed her face. "That's not what I meant."

"Next question," I said darkly.

"Who do you need to write?"

That one was simple. Was she pitying me? "My dad. We left him and he doesn't know what happened."

"All that swearing," She grinned lightly. "and I thought perhaps you had left something important behind."

I rolled my eyes. "I did. I left my father, cousin, and brother behind." I then added, as an after-thought, "And my horse."

The disapproval was gone from her face and was replaced by what I could only imagine _was_ pity. "And our library?"

"I never finished the last page of my book," I grumbled, sinking a little in my chair.

Her smile… it was a little strained. "One last question: do you speak around your family?"

With that question, I met her eyes again.

_Maybe it wasn't pity. _

"They ignore me, too."

She pursed her lips again, then sighed. "Alright. You answered my questions, I'll answer yours."

Maybe before I wanted to hear her answers. Maybe before, I wanted to see her squirm, but now… Now...

Enervated, I sighed, getting up. "Just show me the library."

I cast a look at her when she didn't move. She was looking at me again, but with something like relieved respect. I looked away again quickly, but her gaze stayed on the back of my head. I thought maybe she was going to say something, or ask another question, but I thought a lot of things.

* * *

I twisted the nob and gave the door a pressure that _should've _opened any other door as Inza stood and watched petulantly, but apparently this one was also ridiculously heavy as well. I put my shoulder to the wood, aware that I couldn't use my other arm and pushed with a grunt.

The door gave and proved easier to open when it got over the initial friction. I slipped through skittishly quick in case it decided to snap its open maw over my already maimed body.

Inza rolled her eyes, slipping in after me.

It didn't even budge from the position I left it, so I had to close it again.

Only pale morning sunlight made anything visible, and it lit up the dust and sharp shadows like a great tomb for books.

When I gazed at the massive amounts of tomes, only then did I understand why the door seemed fitting.

There were so many books I thought my neck would snap if I had to keep looking up. The walls of the library tower were the shelves and there was a great spiral staircase that fanned out platforms for access to the books every section up. Inza was sitting up on a desk in between me and the bookcase, holding out a shiny piece of paper for me, which I took.

I squinted at the small ink writing on the paper. It stated what each level held: _Legends 1F/2F– Triforce (1F); Hylia (2F); Din, Nayru, Farore (1F); Link and…. _On and on.

I looked down the list until I saw _Biographies 5F– […] Old Hyrule_

* * *

"So what's with this book that's got you on such edge?" she asked as I searched the shelves.

I glanced at a nameless cover and flipped through a few pages, at first thinking that I would ignore her, then saying, "If you want to know, _you _read it."

She snorted, almost as if she were frustrated. "This hostility is getting old."

"Your stare is getting old," I retorted, shoving the book back into place, a small thing adding more frustration to my pool.

She met that with silence. And I really didn't care.

I remembered flinging the book back onto my bed when my father announced that we were leaving now, and there would be no wait. For a moment, I had toyed with the idea of bringing it, then decided against it, even though it was just one page.

Probably not even an exciting one… but…

"Ah," I sighed in relief, pulling the purple novel from its snug position and flipping to the very end.

x

_Whatever the case may be, I never expected such individual emotions directed toward me. Each had such different opinions of me and my life, from whatever I told them. What one said was never simply accepted. They did not trust without reason, and that was something that I admired._

_They adored the royal family and their Hero, but because they had served well. There were those, naturally, that grudgingly admired their strength and wisdom, when they so desired it for their own. I met those that would turn their faces away if they had cause to, but the greatest thing was that they had none._

_Whatever love the people held for their rulers was mutual. That was perhaps something these Hylians shared with us. We trusted and loved our brothers and sisters mutually. Their rulers loved them– why else would they throw their whole lives into subservience according to their people's best interest?_

_Someday, perhaps this loyalty will be thrown back in their faces, or the other way around. Their King may have a son with different interests at heart than theirs, or the people may find someone they judge in higher worthiness for their respect. That is perhaps, one of their only weaknesses._

_They respect power. They respect compassion, too, but there are those that view it as a weakness. They will never be so cooly political as the Zora, so strictly firm in their grounding such as the Gerudo, so unswervingly loyal as their Sheikah, or so accepting as my people, but they carry their own brand of independence. Their trust must be won. Each individual one of them._

_So, I have found in my journeys among the Hylian people, that there is a certain blood in each of us that just calls for differences in our nature. Gorons could not live long among Gerudo. Gerudo could not stand to live among the Zora. The Zora could not tolerate living among the Gorons, but somehow because of such stark individuality, the Hylians could all perhaps fit in with each of us and survive in our presence._

_And, if anything, this has taught me that perhaps we are not all as different as we may think._

x

I sighed, snapping the book closed. "Stop hovering."

Inza hissed, leaning back and busying herself with her hair. "It had a pretty ending."

Choosing to ignore her, I slipped the book back onto its shelf and took two steps at a time down the stairs. I was out through the main door before she had even finished with her hair.

For who I previously convinced myself of Sheikah blood, she was remarkably far from what I imagined. Goddess– she wouldn't stop talking, for one.

"_Now _where are you off to?" she asked my retreating form, skipping a little to catch up.

"I plan to ask your charge why, by all the three Goddesses, we are still here," I said, attempting a mild composure.

She rooted in front of me, holding her hand out to stop me. According to her eyes, she was distinctly offended. "She's not my charge."

I stretched a little, wrestling the kinks out of my muscles. "She called you her _bodyguard_. Forgive me if I seemed to jump to the conclusion that you are meant to… I don't know, guard her?"

Inza sighed, her form drooping. She didn't want to talk about this, but she would. "That was a sort of exaggeration. I'm the more physical of the two of us."

Taking a step back, I raised a brow. Physical… as in aggressive, or… "Pardon me?"

She paled upon hearing the implications in my voice. "That's disgusting."

I coughed out a laugh, mocking her now that she was the uncomfortable one– be that she was on the more affronted end to discomfort. "Yes. Definitely."

I didn't even _think _she would punch me.

And dear Farore, it hurt like Hell.

Gasping and doubled over, I gasped out, reaching out a hand to stop her if she felt up to doing it again. "Damn harpy," I cried, my guts protesting. "I hate you."

"_That's _what I meant," she said, completely self-righteous.

"I swear, if you weren't a girl, I'd throttle you," I spat, straightening while trying to remain dignified.

She gave a smug grin. "I'd like to see you try."

I opened my mouth, ready to issue a challenge, when Horseshoe rounded the corner ahead of us, servant at his side. I snapped back whatever comment I had and turned a little away from Inza.

She was clearly surprised that I had backed away at all until Horseshoe called out to me. "Sting! I've been trying to find you all morning."

He jogged over, thanking the servant before stopping before Inza. The servant left the corridor with barely a glance in our direction, and it was just the three of us.

Inza's face went completely blank as soon as Horseshoe could even try to see it, but I had caught her look. Her face was full of questions. Dear Farore, I hoped Horseshoe never left me alone with her. Maybe she would leave me be.

I gave him a small greeting smile while he turned to Inza. "Aren't you Harper's bodyguard?"

No reaction.

She said very clearly, "Yes."

Maybe she really _was_ Sheikah. After all, Horseshoe seemed rather intimidated by her and her face was very carefully wiped completely clean of any emotion. It was like staring at a blank piece of parchment with a face on it.

Horseshoe, confused, said, "Well, does she need us for anything?"

"No. Not now. She simply wondered for your comfort–"

I coughed. Splendid job ensuring that, Inza. Splendid.

"– and wished that I show you the kitchens if you perhaps desired sustenance."

Horseshoe shrugged, after casting a worried glance in my direction for my small fit of coughs, and said, very politely, "Thank you for your concern, but I've already eaten. The servants brought me food as soon as I awoke."

She gave a small bow with her head, and said, "Then you do not need me. If Harper desires your presence, you will be informed."

And as if destiny was trying to amuse us all, there was a flash from the pendant around Inza's neck that I had not paid attention to. It was a small, flat crystal disk flashing a violent shade of dark purple.

But I was coming very short from amused. Everything was so silent. I knew that silence.

Inza's eyes went a little dead, as if she found destiny horribly droll, and pressed a forefinger to its surface.

"Yes?" she said clearly, voice bent and willowy.

"_Get out of here, Inza!"_

Her dull eyes grew alarmed, then, not surprisingly, she refused, clasping the pendant tightly. "No. I'm coming to get you."

And the discussion was over, and she turned, and ran.

"Inza!" I yelled after her, and a panic settled in my chest that I hadn't felt in years.

That didn't stop me from running after her, even if all I could see was just a little of her before she turned a corner.

Horseshoe, dancing from foot to foot, bolted after me as well. If it weren't for the fact that my worn boots offered absolutely no friction, I would have rammed straight into Inza instead of a wall, who had paused, for one horrifying second, to stare at the huge white portal door.

It was cleaved in half, diagonally, from corner to corner, and the top half had completely caved in on itself. She whipped around to face me, her face a mask of rage. "What did you do!" she screamed.

_I don't know! What makes you think–_

There was a sudden, shattering and contained explosion before I could answer coming from the right. Inza, whose face was no longer one of wrath, but of horror, dashed toward the explosion and said, "Save the Princess, but if you hurt her–"

Her words were cut off as the door shuddered violently. She threw herself through the doors, leaving the rest for the imagination, and as if my body had better understood her words than my mind, I turned and flung the Secretary door open.

Harper was shoving a dark body off her desk, fumbling with one of the drawers helplessly with another hand. I leapt over, grabbed the body and flung it to the floor, staring at its dead form.

My hands were slick and warm, and it took me a moment to recognize it as blood. My vision went out of focus for a moment, my head screaming as I recognized that that body had been a person, Goddess, most likely a _Hylian_, before I blurted out, "What do you need? We need to get out."

She had the dignity Inza didn't have not to snipe a sarcastic comment back, and said, "Grab the bag by the door." just as she snatched something out of a drawer– a small book?– and dashed around the desk, ducking under the circle of chimes.

The shivering sound of them hitting against each other was was like glass breaking against the sing of steel as I reached for the bag. She emerged, face turned away from me, with a bow and full quiver slung over her back. What did she hide in there?

Before I could do anything, she snatched the bag away from me and said, "Inza–"

"Is preoccupied. Down the corridor."

She nodded and left, hair swinging. Against my better instincts, I did not follow her and turned to the man. Her potential assassin, possibly. I knelt down and, even though the blood sickened me, searched him.

He held in a small pocket up his black sleeve a small charm that I pocketed among many knives hidden elsewhere. I threw off his cowl and thumbed open his eyes.

Not red. That's one good sign. Not possessed (or not anymore) or possibly Sheikah.

I left.

* * *

**A Change in Perspective**

_That was Holy Magic. How could anyone get through?_ Inza thought, her questions screaming over all the other thoughts.

"Crecha! Crecha, where are you!" she cried, whipping a petty knife out of her boot when she heard no response. _Damn it._

She turned just in time to see the sword descending. The jolt to her muscles was a shock as her knife took the blade, her wide eyes gazing directly into a mask. She skipped back a few steps, breaking the lock, and the figure stood still, lazily.

"Who are you?" she demanded, and when he didn't answer, she started again, "Where's–"

He turned swiftly, too swift for her to react but to throw her knife. He dodged just at the right time, and she did not only miss her target entirely, but it buried itself in someone else's shoulder. Horseshoe cried out, face shocked, and the figure was already down the hall.

"Out of the way!" she told him, panicked and shoving him back, no matter how much pain he was in, and no matter how much it was her fault.

Harper's door opened and Inza yelled, "Shoot him!" before he could escape. Harper, alarmed suddenly, whipped out an arrow and shot.

And missed as he threw himself into the portal room.

Inza cried out in frustration, sprinting after him with all she had, but she saw the last of him as he took the portal and dispersed.

He had done what he had come for.

She threw a fist to the hard marble walls, wishing she could scream, but remembering…

Inza choked it all back and forced her emotions clear.

Crecha. She could still be alive.

Again, she took herself to the empty room, and this time turned to the tapestry on a far wall. Lifting up a corner, Crecha's dead eyes met a stone face.

That stone face took in her sprawled form and the pool of blood, and moved past without another look. That stone heart refused to react to the splash of warm liquid that had pooled too quickly dripping off the sheets of the sickbed, another pair of glassy eyes staring off into nothing.

Mechanically, she made her way to the King's side, taking in the fact that he looked much better dead, and reached behind his grizzled head and unclasped something precious around his neck.

Her words were as cold stone as she slipped the precious thing inside a hidden pocket. "Mithe ris coseri buswael Erysaie tenpel."

_May your soul reach the Goddess._

For a moment, her face betrayed her. "Ri depetemt."

_You bastard._

She didn't look back.


End file.
